An Unexpected Ally
by darthsydious
Summary: Edith is going to Ireland to visit Sybil and Tom. With Ireland fighting for it's freedom, it is unsafe for Edith to travel alone. Who else to accompany her but Thomas, our favorite footman? T/E BFF pairing.
1. Chapter 1

_Haters gonna hate. When I saw the Christmas Special, and Thomas and Edith were doing that fancy step at the servant's ball, I thought "OMG, Edith got a Snarky Gay Friend!". So...yeah. I ship Thomas/Edith BFF now. Ayup. Like I said, haters gonna hate. - darthsydious_

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><p>"Lady Edith?"<p>

"Here I am." The young woman's voice around the corner of the balcony called. Thomas followed the sound of her footsteps crunching through the thin layer of snow until he came upon the Lady Edith. She was hurriedly flicking a cigarette away, blowing out the last puff of smoke. Shocked that one of the Crawley daughters was smoking, Thomas didn't know what to say at first.

"Lady Grantham was concerned for you." He said finally. Thomas' excused his prescence, clearly he felt he was intruding on her.

"I'm fine. It was only so warm inside."

"It's a bit cold out here my lady."

"I'd say it's rather warm for January." Thomas might have smirked then. Edith turned back to him, smiling a little, the rosy hue to her cheeks was certainly thanks to the punch, which Mrs. Patmore always added a generous helping of spirits.

"I won't tell." He promised, her eyes shifted

"What?"

"The…the cigarette. I won't tell."

"Thank you." She said, and when he proffered his own, she smiled, accepting one. "Thank you." She said, then held out her own case to him, he shook his head, taking one of his own out instead. He struck a match, lighting hers first. "Are you enjoying the party?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you." He said. She was leaning against the balustrade, and no one was around, so he did as well.

"I always fancied you above the others to know all the modern dances." She said with a laugh. "I expect you impressed quite a few ladies on your leave over in France." She teased. Thomas shrugged a little, attempting to hide a smile.

"Fewer than you think, my lady."

"Oh?" she quirked an eyebrow. "Waiting for the right one?"

"I suppose we all are…one way or another." Perhaps it was because he'd had some of Mrs. Patmore's punch…he didn't seem quite so nervous, letting Lady Edith question him in such a fashion, on such a delicate subject. Of all the Crawley sisters though, he supposed he liked Edith best. She was almost always herself, not in the boisterous way that Lady Sybil was, but in her own, quiet, reserved way. He could respect anyone who could stand up to Lady Mary. "You'll have a suitor soon yourself I expect." She attempted to smile, looking at her shoes.

"One hopes…but it is unlikely." Suddenly Thomas is struck with the similarities in their situations. Both had prospects and lost them. And both were highly unlikely to find a companion to share the rest of their lives with. The future seemed bleak and rather empty, barring faces that seemed concerned for their well-fare. The personal future of their lives looked rather lonely. Rather, his did. Edith would always have her sisters and her father and mother. Thomas Barrow had no one. Edith touched the corner of her eye, sniffling a little. She looked away, seeming to look out at the grounds for a moment. "Well…" she said, cleared her throat "I understand you were out almost all night last week, searching for poor Isis."

"I- I was." He said.

"I do hope Papa rewarded you." She said. "Or if he hasn't then I shall."

"What?" he was baffled.

"You were hoping for a promotion…or at least a reward of money." He tried to speak, ashamed. "There isn't anything to be ashamed of. It is your business after all. One must do what they can to make a living." She said.

"He…seemed pleased with my efforts." Thomas said finally.

"I'm glad." She said. She was quiet for a little while. "I'm to go to Ireland to visit my sister and her husband." He nodded politely. "I've never been, and I understand it's quite…well rowdy, due to the current state of things. Papa said he would look for someone capable to travel with me, see me to my sister's, and home again I mean." He looked over at her now, surprise evident in his eyes. "I- I could mention you, if you like. A chance to see another part of the world. Besides I should like the company on the train and the boat." He gave a small laugh,

"I'd be grateful, Lady Edith." He said, quite meaning it too. "Very grateful indeed." He hoped it wasn't evident, the hunger in his voice. The desire for a chance to make something more of himself. If he impressed the family, seeing Lady Edith to Ireland, maybe even protecting her a time or two, it might mean a promotion.

"Then I'll speak with him in the morning." She said, the end of her cigarette glowed as she inhaled. Around the corner, the door creaked open, both glanced at each other, worried, and quickly dropped their cigarettes, he stamped them out while she tried to wave away any hint of ash or smoke about them.

"Lady Edith?"

"Yes- Carson, here I am, what is it?" she asked hurriedly, clearly not used to appearing guilty. The butler appeared around the corner. He looked startled, seeing Thomas still outside, and alone with a lady of the house.

"Thomas, what are you doing out here?" he asked, clearly displeased with this discovery.

"Thomas was only doing what Mama asked him to." Edith stepped in "He came to see I was warm enough, as Mama asked, and then I asked him to keep me company, making sure I didn't freeze to death outside." She said. "But now I think I'll go inside. Thank you Thomas, and I'll speak to Papa about it tomorrow." She beamed at him before heading back inside, her taffeta skirts rustling in the breeze.

"What was that about?" Carson asked. Thomas found himself unable to hold back a tiny smile.

"Nothing Mr. Carson, it was just as she said." He shrugged. Smile gave way to a grin as Carson sighed tiredly, turning around and going back inside.

That night, when Thomas finally went up to his room, he found a note tucked into his nameslip on the door. Inside the folded paper was a cigarette, the note accompanied read:

"_I owed you one._

_- Lady Edith"_

Thomas found himself smiling. The cigarette was a ladies brand, but he didn't care. He tucked it into his own case, planning on having it tomorrow. Lady Edith. He didn't know how much sway she could hold with Lord Grantham, but if it meant a trip to Ireland, and perhaps even a good foothold in the family, then it would be well worth it. Besides, Lady Edith wasn't so bad. Perhaps she might have a household of her own one day, and she might want a butler. Or a driver. He could always learn to drive. He fancied himself working for Lady Edith's household. Perhaps she'd become like Lady Rosamund. A house in London, servants and all taken care of by the family. He'd like London. City life suited him. He stretched out on his cot, thinking to himself. Perhaps the future didn't seem quite so hopeless after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_I am having SUCH fun writing this story! I can't wait until I can get to get Thomas and Edith to Ireland on some awesome adventures. - darthsydious_

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><p>It wasn't until two days later, as Thomas was shining shoes in the scullery when he finally heard from Lady Edith. He wasn't Lord Grantham's valet yet, but it wouldn't hurt to help Carson catch up on a few things. Of all the people he had to fight to get on the good side of again, it was the butler. Thomas rolled his eyes, deciding once and for all he hated irony.<p>

"Thomas?" he glanced up from his work,

"Here." He called out, looking back at his work. He suddenly realized it was Lady Edith and jumped to his feet.

"Oh dear I see you're already quite busy." She said,

"It's alright your Ladyship." He said, glancing at the shoes "I was just helping Mr. Carson."

"I won't keep you then, I'd hate for you to get in trouble." She said, "I've finally had a chance to speak with Lord Grantham, about the trip to Ireland today. I'm sorry if you were expecting an answer sooner." Thomas was again taken aback by her seeming need to make him comfortable. It was almost unsettling, mostly because he was unused to it.

"No, I wasn't." he said honestly. "His Lordship has been preoccupied lately."

"Yes, the wedding and all." Edith said. Eyes distant for a moment, she quickly shook her head, replacing her frown with a smile. "Anyway, to come to the point he's quite in agreement that you'll come with me."

"Am I?" Thomas' surprise was evident. Edith nodded.  
>"He also asked for you to go and fetch the tickets now. They're waiting at the station. I'll make excuses for you if you wish to go now. Or I could drive into town." Now that was quite unexpected. Thomas knew he would have been discharged for stealing, and he knew Lord Grantham was aware of it. To trust him with any amount of money must have been quite a test of faith for Lord Grantham.<p>

"No, I'll go now." He pulled off his apron, setting it on the bench. Edith took out a fold of bills.

"They will be under his name." she said.

"I'll see to it." He promise, taking the money from her outstretched hands.

"Thomas, have you gotten- Lady Edith!" Mrs. Hughes was quite surprised to see the young woman down in the scullery.

"I'm just here to send Thomas on an errand for Lord Grantham." Edith said.

"Very good your ladyship. I'll see that he's off right away." Mrs. Hughes said.

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes." She said "And thank you Thomas." She smiled over her shoulder as she left. Holding the billfold in his hands, he counted the money. More than enough for a first class coach.

**Upstairs, Edith's room**

"Is Papa serious?" Mary asked. She stood in the doorway, watching Anna pack Edith's suitcases. "He's sending you to Ireland all by yourself?"

"Thomas is to come with me." Edith said. "Are you sure you won't come along? Sybil will be quite pregnant in a little while."

"I'm afraid I'll have to wait; Matthew and I do have wedding plans to make. Will you be back before July?"

"Oh I should think so. I'll only be away for a month. Why?" Mary shrugged; she came a little further into the room, picking up a linen blouse, smoothing out the cuffs.

"I only wondered if you would be my maid of honour." She handed Anna the blouse "Here, Anna, take this one as well, have Bridget press it."

"Yes your Ladyship." Anna took the hint to leave them alone, quickly exiting the room.

"Me?" Edith asked, and Mary met her gaze.

"Yes you. You are my sister after all." Edith resumed folding things, glancing up at Mary.

"Did Matthew put you up to it?"

"No." Mary said. "But he did want us to be friends again."

"Again?" Edith quirked an eyebrow, and Mary smiled genuinely.

"That's what I told him, but-" she held out her hand to her. "I am willing to let bygones be bygones." Edith looked at her sister's hand, and then took it.

"I quite agree." She said, a little breathlessly. "It seems so foolish now, all those years fighting." Mary nodded.

"Matthew gave me a proper scolding for it." She said, folding a pair of stockings and setting them in the trunk. "Until I had to promise him that we'd make up and be a happy family again."

"Now if only Papa would accept Branson, we would be." Edith said. "Do you think they'll not come back to England some day?"

"They'll stay until you come back with a report on how dangerous it is there, and Papa insists they live in England again." Mary said. "Will Thomas be staying in Ireland for the whole visit?"

"I think so."

"Carson must be giving him quite a speech on how he's to behave." Mary said, finding she pitied the footman. One could pity any of the servants under the wrath of Carson.

"Well, I'll leave you to your packing; Mama wanted me to remind you to visit Granny before you go."

"Whatever for?" Edith asked

"Oh you know Granny. She thinks you're going to your death, this trip to Ireland." Mary said with an amused grin.

"I'll see her this afternoon then. I expect she'll want to talk me out of it."

"No, just to kiss you goodbye." Mary said. "I'll see if Bridget's finished with your blouse. Are you taking her with you?" Edith shook her head.

"No, I didn't think Branson would like me to. Anyway Sybil told me there wasn't even a room for a maid. I'm not even sure they have a cook."

"No room?" Mary asked with a frown "Good heavens are they living in a rabbit hutch?" Edith smiled

"I'm sure not as small as that, but she did say it was small, and I think I can manage on my own." Mary shrugged

"Don't tell Papa."

"Don't tell me what?" he asked, standing in the doorway. Both girls looked with a start, glancing at each other with a look of alarm. Their father had the talent of being terribly quiet when he liked to. Such a skill meant he might be listening when young ladies preferred to keep their talk of young men to each other.

"Nothing Papa." Mary said with a secretive smile. "Nothing very bad."

"But bad enough." He said with a raised eyebrow. His smile was an amused one, and Edith knew he would let it be. "Mary will you excuse us for a moment please?"

"Certainly."

"Matthew is downstairs, he just arrived."

"Thank you." The flush in her cheeks proved this distraction from whatever her father didn't want her to hear would be a pleasant one. Leaving them alone, Robert reached into his pocket, his hand fumbling for something. He suddenly seemed shy and unsure. It was unsettling, seeing her father like that. He was always sure of himself. Everything he did was fraught with purpose and meaning.

"Are you all packed?" he asked.

"I think so." Edith looked over at her open trunk. "I was just deciding what evening things to bring."

"I don't think they'll be having many soirées in Belfast." He said. Edith gave him a look of annoyance but said nothing. His free hand tapped along the edge of her trunk, he looked over the contents, apparently searching for something. Edith followed his gaze, somewhat confused.

"I…suppose your Mama saw you had a few new things."

"Yes. Thank you by the way. I'm glad to have a new travelling suit." He nodded.

"And you have the tickets for tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, Thomas just came back with them. They're in my handbag."

"Good." He nodded. "Ireland is very pretty countryside." He said suddenly. Edith watched him go to the window. "Nicer than England, in some respects." He bounced a little on his heels. "You ought to bring your camera." His eyes drifted over to the Kodak case on her vanity desk. Sir Anthony Strallen had sent her the gift some time ago. It was a brand new model, better than the brownie box camera's she and her sisters had when they were little. This was a bit smaller than her box brownie, quite portable and easy to use. Edith had already shown her prowess at taking pictures. She had an album already half-filled of her unwilling subjects, all attempting some kind of pleasant appearance as she immortalized them on film. One of her favourites was Carson standing stiff as a bored, quite unsure of what he was even doing, Mary beside him, amused by this. The result was a befuddled butler and a blurry image of her sister giggling.

"I'll take the album too." Edith said, "Sybil and Tom will want to see pictures of the family." Robert said nothing to this, even refraining from rolling his eyes. He did promise Cora he would try to accept the former chauffer. Edith turned from carefully setting her camera in her trunk beside her album to see her father pulling something out of his pocket.

"Take this as well…won't you?" he held out a slip of paper. Unfolding it, she saw it was a cheque now. A cheque made out for a good deal of money. "I told them there would be some money…if he is not too proud to accept it." Edith smiled at her father then. She found her heart swell with pride, seeing her usually proud father accepting he had not won the battle, and indeed attempt to make a truce. Reaching up, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I am sure they will be grateful." She held the cheque for a moment. "Are you certain you wouldn't rather send it to them yourself?"

"Yes." He said, and closed his hands over hers. "It will be quite safe with you." He said. He smiled quite tenderly at her then. "Dear Edith." He said with a sigh. "I am glad you aren't going alone." She frowned.  
>"Is it really so dangerous?" he looked as if he knew something but was loathe to share it.<p>

"Your Mama only read something in her newspaper." He put on a smile for her, the one he always had when he'd say goodbye to Matthew before he'd go to the front. "Thomas assures me he will keep you quite safe." he was quiet a moment.

"I have every faith in him." Edith said. He nodded then.  
>"Yes. Yes of course." He smiled genuinely then. "I expect Carson will be ringing the dressing gong quite soon now. I'll let you finish packing."<p>

"Thank you Papa."

**The Next Morning**

Bright and early, Edith was in the drive, Carson fussing with her trunks on the motor. The family gathered around her, albeit sleepy from the early hour. Matthew had asked to accompany her to the station, and Edith felt obliged to say yes. He was to be her brother in-law soon after all. She wondered briefly if Mary would ask to go along, even when she climbed into the car, half-expecting Mary to say "I'll just fetch my coat!". But she didn't. And Edith silently thanked her elder sister for letting her be. For once neither held any malice in their eyes as they said goodbye, and Mary even pressed her cheek, sincerity in her eyes.

"Have a marvelous time." She said, "And do see that Matthew behaves himself, he's not to tell you any stories."

"He's only seeing me to the station." Edith said, leaning out the window.

Carson was on the other side of the car, speaking quietly to Thomas. He handed him the oversized satchel that bore all of Thomas' clothes, two or three uniforms, and a few everyday things.

"On your best behavior, mind." Carson said. "You'll be representing a proper English household."

"Yes Mr. Carson." Thomas had heard this speech before, and he was more than sick of it. But he bit back a retort, deciding there was still a chance to be taken out of the car and some other quiet, well-behaved footman put in his place.

"Do tell us how Sybil is." Cora couldn't help but call over the car starting. "And make certain she's not doing too much."

"I will Mama." Edith put on a smile as she leaned out the window. The car lurched forward. "I promise to write as soon as I arrive!" pulling away, she leaned further out, waving before settling back against the cushions. Matthew smiled at her clearly relieved expression.

"I'd ask if you're nervous, but I can't see the point." He said, his eyes twinkling. "Is it your first time on your own?" and she nodded.

"I'm a little afraid." She admitted.

"Don't let what the papers say frighten you." He shrugged.

"Why? What do the papers say?" she asked, wondering if she should have taken a sneak at her father's morning paper. She had understood politics in Ireland were less than friendly, but she hadn't heard of anything really terrible. Not any worse than the little riots that had once gone on in the village, when Sybil had snuck away only to be stuck in the middle of a brouhaha.

"Nothing really to worry about. The press always drums up some kind of story, twisting people's words."

"How?" she asked. "I mean what sorts of stories are they publishing?" Matthew could see her becoming uneasy. He glanced to the drivers seat, Thomas eyes on Lady Edith in the rearview mirror. Seeing Matthew, he averted his gaze elsewhere, but he had heard already.

"I'm sure it's nothing." Matthew said reassuringly this time. "Just some political parties, not getting their way."

"Oh dear." She murmured. She fidgeted a moment, worrying her new gloves. Seeing this, he took her hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly.

"You mustn't fret." He said, and she looked back at him. "You'll have Thomas to look after you. He'll know what to do if anything get's too rough. Anyway things won't get too heated. These reports always seem more grim than they really are."

"Yes." She murmured. "Anyway it doesn't matter. It's my first trip on my own, and I'm quite determined to enjoy it." Edith had decided. She sat back with a determined look about her and Matthew found himself admiring her perseverance.

Arriving at the station, he saw that all of her things were accounted for a checked before seeing her to the platform.

"I'm afraid I can't see you all the way away." He said, "I'm already needed at the office."

"Then I shan't keep you any longer." Edith said. "Thomas is here to take care of me."

"Indeed." Matthew acknowledged the footman with a nod. "Well then, have a safe trip Edith." He said, and proffering his cheek, she rose up and kissed it quickly.

"Do thank Mary for me." She said, settling back on her heels.

"For what?" he asked, surprised.

"For making you take me to the station." She said with a smile. "I'm sure I'd be quite a bit more nervous than if you hadn't come." He didn't say anything for a moment, a smirk playing across his mouth. Again his eyes twinkled at her.

"I'll tell her." He turned to Thomas then. "I leave her in your capable hands Thomas. Bring her home in one piece won't you?" Thomas bowed from the neck, hands currently holding their satchels. Tipping his hat to Edith, Matthew smiled and departed. Thomas could see Lady Edith's apprehension as she turned to face the open carraige of the train.

"Don't worry your Ladyship." He said. She turned to him. "I'll keep you safe." Edith found herself smiling quite honestly at the footman then.

"I know you will." She said. Holding her head high, she boarded the train, Thomas close behind. Lifting their bags onto the rack above, he waited until she was situated on the seat opposite.

"I'll be along in the coach car." He said. "If you need anything-"

"Didn't Carson explain?" she asked. Thomas was clearly perplexed. "I had thought you had looked at the tickets when you picked them up." She said.

"I'm…not to go wait in the coach car?" Thomas asked.

"No. Papa was rather adamant you ride with me." Edith seemed apologetic then. "I'm afraid you're quite stuck with me." Thomas looked at the first-class carraige.

"Oh." Was all he managed to say. Since she'd already sat, he wondered dumbly what he ought to do now. Could he sit in her prescence then? That seemed a foolish question. Surely Lady Edith did not expect him to stand the entire journey. She was already unpinning her hat, her gloves peeled off and set on the cushion beside her. He made to take them and put them up for her but she stopped him. "You're not a footman on this trip Thomas." Edith said, and he pulled his hand away. "If I needed a maid, I'd have brought Bridget along. Now do sit down, you're making me giddy." He seated himself opposite her, palms sweaty. He didn't understand why he was so on edge. He ought to be thrilled he was riding first class. He supposed he might've, if he had his own coach. Lady Edith didn't seem to mind, but she did slide the window down, peering out to see where the porter was. She sat back down again, divesting herself of her long coat. "I wish we'd leave the station already." She sighed.

"Ladyship is eager to get to Ireland." Thomas attempted to sooth her obvious nerves.

"No, I'd rather not smoke in front of anybody here." She said tartly, and he almost laughed.

"We'll be off soon." He promised. He'd forgotten rather quickly that Lady Edith was different from her sisers. She certainly wasn't Lady Grantham, but she did carry some of the Dowager Countess' stubborn, can-do attitude. She certainly didn't view herself as a weaker sex. To his great amusement, as soon as the doors shut, and the whistle sounded, Lady Edith reached into her satchel overhead, and pulled out not only a package of cigarettes, but a deck of playing cards.

"Do you play?" she asked. He folded the table out for her, glancing up.

"A few games."

"Such as?" the train lurched forward, pitching her back against the seat. Not at all fazed by this, she swayed with the carraige, easily finding her balance as she fished a cigarette out and lit it. The tip glowed, and she let out a puff of smoke, sighing delightedly. Amazed, Thomas could only stare at her a moment.

"We…played a few games in the army. Mostly poker, and gin rummy."

"Well I know gin rummy." She sat down. "You'll have to teach me poker."

"What would we bet?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. She paused now, looking for a place to flick her ashes. He reached up into his satchel for the broken saucer which he'd taken to using in his room for an ashtray. Grateful, she tapped her cigarette before holding it between index and forefinger, dividing the deck.

"I suppose we could always bet money. But that seems as if I'd have an unfair advantage." She paused again.

"No." Thomas said. "Suppose we'll just play for now. No bets for the moment."

"Well that doesn't seem like very much fun." She said, and pursed her lips in thought. She snapped her fingers suddenly, getting to her feet, she reached up above for her satchel.  
>"I'll get it, what do you need?"<p>

"The red tin." She said and he found it, handing it over to her before setting her bag up again. Emptying the contents onto the table, she began sorting the pile, much to Thomas' amusement, of allsorts, humbugs and saltwater taffy wrapped in wax paper.

"We'll divide these up and play for them." She looked up at him, "Well have you got any better ideas?" he finally couldn't keep in his laughter,

"No I don't Lady Edith." He quickly apologized and sat down. Thomas found himself grinning as he began to deal the cards. Yes indeed. If anybody could make the trip to Ireland, it would be Lady Edith. She was determined to enjoy herself, and Thomas found himself slowly releasing his tight grip on the façade the staff so carefully put up between them and the upstairs. How could he keep up being stiff and formal when Lady Edith was so lively and engaging? Not quite comfortable enough to take off his jacket, he kept it on, deciding not to push his luck just yet. He wasn't quite certain what made him so comfortable around Lady Edith, it certainly wasn't just that she shared cigarettes and insisted he teach her how to play card games usually only men played. They had a good ways to go before they reached the coast so Thomas decided to settle in for a good long game of cards. If that's what Lady Edith wanted, then he'd see she got it.


	3. Chapter 3

_Did you think I forgot you my pretties? Never! Been camping this past weekend, and before that just plain busy! Here is the latest chapter. Edith and Thomas have a bit of trouble coming into Ireland. 1920's were a tough time, as Ireland was fighting for Independence. What will that mean for Tom and Sybil? - darthsydious_

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><p>"When is she supposed to arrive?" Tom buttoned his collar, tugging at the edges.<p>

"Noon." She sent a telegram, the trains are on time." Sybil stood from the vanity with only a slight wobble. Finding her balance, a hand over her belly, she went to the dresser and pulled down her hatbox.

"Hm."

"Stop fussing, it's only Edith." Sybil tapped Tom's hands away from his collar, adjusted his tie before kissing him quickly.

"It's still your family's first real visit here. I want to make an impression. We're settled and happy, and well taken care of. I don't want her rushing back to Downton with news we're not making it."

"We are." Sybil said firmly.

"I know…but it's not like you were before." Tom sighed. He sat down to lace up his shoes. "I'd wanted at least a housekeeper for you."

"Do you really think I care?" she asked, sitting down on the bed across from him, she waited for him to look up.

"I just want you to be comfortable, to be happy." He admitted finally.

"I am." She said. He gave her a look. "Tom Branson, you listen to me." She knelt down, her hands on his knees. "If I wasn't happy, I would have said so. No, we aren't living in a grand flat or even have a cook, but I don't mind. Because we are together. That's what I care about." He smiled then,

"You oughtn't be kneeling on the floor, not in your condition." He kissed her cheek before helping her to her feet. "Besides, I've found us a cook regardless."

"What? Tom Branson you know very well we can't afford one!"

"I've been looking at the books." He said, "I think we can manage one, at least part-time. You're on your feet too much at the shop. I don't get back from the office sometimes until late. It'll put us both at ease to know there'll be luncheon and dinner ready for us."

"Well…" she chewed her bottom lip. "I suppose if you think it's alright. I still wish you'd talked with me about it first." She took her hat then, pinning it on. "When is she coming?"

"Two 'o' clock. She's been here once before, on Saturday, while you were out calling."

"Did she?" Sybil put her hands on her hips, quite upset now. "And when were you planning on telling me? Or were you going to simply let me walk into my kitchen and find another woman at my stove?"

"Sybil I didn't mean to keep it a secret!" he implored, "I only wanted to surprise you. You've been so tired lately, trying to get things ready, I know you're nervous about Lady Edith-"

"Edith- call her Edith." She interrupted

"_Edith_, coming to visit. I know you are." He wagged a finger at her. "It won't do any good to pretend you aren't, or else you wouldn't have got down and scrubbed the floors like I know you did yesterday when I wasn't home." She opened her mouth, and then shut it.  
>"Very well." She sighed heavily. "I won't say anything else about it. Of course it's a good idea, a part time cook." She smiled then "Perhaps if she's a good one, we'll keep her on." She took her gloves from the vanity, "Now fetch your hat, if we leave now, we'll just beat the train."<p>

"I hope their isn't much fuss today."

"There hasn't been a riot since December."

"Hm." She tugged at her cuffs "Plenty of time to simmer back to a boil if you ask me." He smirked at her retreating form, shutting the bedroom door behind them.

~O~

**Dublin Station**

"I hope they can find is in this crowd." Edith murmured, looking out at the packed station.

"There'll be a parlor for you to wait in." he said, "I'll go and get the bags." There was a quick knock on the door, Thomas rose and answered it. The wagon-lit conductor was there, quite red in the face from running.

"My apologies Lady Edith, but we've received a notice and I'm to deliver it to all the passengers. I expect you'll send your footman down to fetch your things?"

"Yes I was only just-"

"We recommend you keep him with you, until you're safe on your way." Thomas looked out the window now, trying to see if perhaps there was a riot, or maybe a political party from England.

"Is it that dangerous?"

"There's a fair queue at the station, most of 'em working class. They don't take very kindly to the English at the moment. They've heard there's a small platoon of soldiers from the RIC traveling on board. If things should get rough-"

"Do you mean that this crowd is all here for them?" Edith was aghast.

"We'll have your things sent straight away to wherever it is you're staying." The conductor said "You have the address?"

"Yes I do." Edith took down a pen and paper, scribbling the street and house number. "Is this all you'll need?"

"The tags-" Thomas fumbled through his pockets, still looking out the window at the line of grim faces. An egg smacked against the glass, Edith scooted across the seat with a small gasp. Eyes wide, she looked from the window to the conductor.

"Apparently they mean to feed us while we wait." Thomas quipped "Here, just her trunk, and a couple suitcases." A tomato joined the egg after a moment, seeds and juice mixing with the rotten yolk.

"No hat boxes or any satchels?" the wagon-lit conductor asked.

"Just the ones overhead."

"It will be alright to take these at least won't it?" Edith asked.

"It should be." The wagon-lit conductor nodded. "Is your party waiting for you?"

"Yes, just inside."

"I'll not keep you then, I've the other passengers to see. Thank you Lady Edith." He tipped his hat and the door shut behind him. Edith looked out at the crowds through the egg running down the window.

"I think you'll regret my having asked you to come along, Thomas." Edith said, clutching her handbag. He looked down at her. She was perched on the edge of the seat, as she looked out at the throng of people. For a moment, he did. He wished he hadn't come. He wished he wasn't facing several hundred Irishmen unarmed. He almost wished he wasn't English. But he looked at Lady Edith sitting quietly, wide-eyed but determined as she worried the handle of her purse. She turned to face him, a corner of her mouth turned up. "I'm ever so glad you did come." She said.

"So I am." He said, and found he wasn't quite lying. It was more a half-truth. He wasn't glad he'd come to face the mob outside the train, but somehow he was relieved Edith wasn't alone here.

"You stay here with the car; Mr. Reed would have my head if the motor got scratched in his bedlam."

"Find her Tom!" Sybil called over the noise. "She won't know where to look for you!"

"What's her carriage number?"

"Four, in first class."

"Right, sit tight." He hopped out, squeezing his way through the crowds. He was worried that Sybil had been right after all. Maybe everyone had been spoiling for a fight. Pushing through the station, he found the platform jammed, same as the rest of the building. "What's the news?" he asked a man beside him.

"Fair amount of soldiers on the train." The man replied. "RIC men."

"Oh?" Tom didn't like the idea of Edith or Sybil being in the midst of all this. The Irish people didn't want any more soldiers; they'd made it perfectly clear a few weeks ago. RIC stations were being attacked in smaller villages. They were isolated from the larger cities, not as much fuss, but it caused enough. And they were getting closer to Dublin. He'd gone down with a few boys from his paper to Cork to have a look at one of the barracks that had been burned. Not much had been left, and the spread his paper had put out caused quite a sensation of patriotism for the next few days. As he scanned the crowds for Lady Edith, he wondered whether letting Sybil have her way and make a life in Ireland had been such a good idea. It was where the news was, and he did miss his homeland. He dearly wanted to help his people separate themselves from the English rule, make their own lives, not be governed by someone else. He wanted to see Ireland free and independent, but what of Sybil…and the baby? Would they be safe? Was it right to raise a child near so much violence? When the Bolsheviks took the Romanov family, he never expected them to kill the royal family. Tom admitted great sacrifices had to be made to achieve freedom. But as he stood amid the surging crowd, all shouting and pounding at the train, he wondered if living in Ireland meant he was to sacrifice his family. Before he could answer, the doors of the train slid open, and he found himself shoved to one side, the crowd surged forward, reaching for whoever was in the compartments. Policemen on horses came down the platform, whistles blowing. Cudgels raised, they kicked and beat the crowds back. Wagon-lit conductors were trying to hold men back from climbing into the carriages.

"Please I'm just here to bring someone home!" Tom shouted up to a passing officer. "A lady, she's a lady!" he didn't dare mention she was from England in this mêlée.

"In this mess?" the officer shouted back. Tom glared. "Well which carraige is she in?"

"First class, number four!"

"Stay close to me, I'll clear a path." The officer went forward then, pushing and shoving, whistle piercing the air. Finally to the car, Tom braced himself at the door, another man behind made to push in.

"There's a lady in this one, there's no soldier!" he shouted over his shoulder. The man grumbled and moved on to where a group of men were trying to get into the officer's smoking lounge. Stepping into the car, he saw Edith on the seat, Thomas standing, holding what appeared to be a leg from the fold-down table. "They'll make you pay for that you know." He nodded to the 'weapon'.

"I didn't have a gun." Thomas said.

"Lucky you didn't. Might've shot yourself." Branson retorted. "Come Lady Edith." Trembling, she got up, hat askew as she tried to smooth down her dress. "Stay close to me, and if all else fails, pretend you're Irish." He said and took her hand. "Thomas get on the other side of her, we'll keep her hedged in." each took a satchel down, "Don't let go of either of us, understand?" Tom asked, Edith was looking at the crowds, her fingers clutching Thomas' arm. "Link your elbows, harder to pull us apart." He said.

"You talk like you've been in a fight before." Thomas said.

"I _am_ a member of the press." Tom said with a grin. "You learn fast. Come on, the crowd isn't slowing any, and Sybil's got the car."

They stepped into the crowds, and all at once Edith was being shoved and jostled, stepped on and pinched amongst shouting brawling Irishmen and English soldiers. Someone grabbed her, quite meaning, from behind. Before she could even scream Thomas shoved the man back, nearly losing his hat.

"Watch it!" the man spit on Thomas and kept moving.

"Hold on to me!" Branson was shouting over the crowd. "Don't look at the ground!" Edith tried to look up, it seemed even worse than looking down. Everywhere there were faces, all of them within inches of her face as they coursed through the station. It seemed as if they were swimming upstream. "Keep moving!" his voice was almost lost among the shouts. Two other men were fighting; they toppled over, falling into Edith. She felt herself pulled from between Thomas and Branson and she screeched, flailing desperately. Someone else caught her, laughing as they shoved her along with the crowd.

"Thomas! Thomas!" she cried, falling to her hands and knees she could only see a tangle of legs and boots all stampeding around her. She was near a bench, she was about to put her hand on the railing to stand up when suddenly she felt a great weight pitch the bench forward. Blood splattered onto her face from the man's jaw. Feeling sick, Edith fumbled, trying to crawl away. Arms around her waist, she suddenly felt weightless. Just before her eyes rolled back she thought she saw a familiar cap and worried eyes.

Sybil stood in the car, waving her arms over her head for Tom. More policemen had arrived, all jamming the crowd.  
>"You'll have to move the car!" one on horseback was saying.<p>

"If I could fit behind the wheel don't you think I would?" she snapped, "My husband will move it just as soon as he comes out."

"He's in there?"

"He's fetching my sister and her footman."

"God save 'em." The officer muttered and kicked his horse into a gallop. Glaring at his retreating form, she turned back to the crowd, at last catching sight of Tom. Behind him was Thomas, but where was-

"Edith!" she gasped, Tom opened the door of the backseat, Thomas slid her sister's unconscious body onto the seat,

"Keep her head elevated." Tom was saying, so Thomas climbed in after, shifting her head. "She's alright, she just fainted."

"She's bleeding!"

"It's not her's. Too close to a brawl is all." He replied, getting Edith's feet into the car before

"I'll crank the motor, switch it on won't you?" Thomas remained silent, staring at the unconscious Lady Edith on his lap. The car lurched forward, pulling away from the station as several few police motors rolled in.

~O~

When Edith came to, she was on a sofa in a small sitting room. Sybil sat in a chair beside her, holding a bottle of smelling salts and a clean washcloth.

"Have I been unconscious long?" she asked softly. Sybil smiled a little,

"No, not really. Thomas only just set you here, and I fetched the salts for you." Corking the bottle, she set it down. "Now hold still while I clean you up."

"Am I hurt?" Edith asked,

"No, only a little messy." Sybil said.

"Really, I can do it." She began to sit up.

"Slowly now, you might have fainted but you're still probably dizzy."

"Yes I-" she swayed, sinking back down onto the couch. "Yes I am."

"Thank heavens Tom was there."

"And Thomas." Edith said. "So many people were-" her eyes grew wide. "My handbag! Where is my handbag!"

"It's here beside you, how you managed to hold onto it I'll never know- what are you looking for?" Sybil watched Edith frantically dig through the bag, pulling out a pack of matches, a vial of perfume, a small compact and a change purse. With a snap of her fingers, she found the cigarette carton.

"When did you start smoking?" Sybil asked, surprised.

"About two years into the war." Edith said. Tugging out what appeared to be a clumsily rolled up cigarette, Edith found the seam, beginning to open it.

"Oh no, not on the rugs it was just cleaned!" Sybil cried. But no tobacco fell out.

"I hid it there, just in case." Edith said, unrolling the 'cigarette'. "Even if someone did take my purse, they'd only have a bad smoke. They'd only burn it I suppose. But it's safe anyway. Here."

"What on earth is this?" Taking the creased paper, she turned it over. Eyes wide, she fumbled for the back of the chair to stand. "Tom- Tom come quickly!"

"What is it?" with surprising speed Branson came clattering down the stairs, sleeves still rolled up from washing his face. "Is it the baby?"

"No, come and see- what Edith brought- from Papa." She thrust the cheque at him.

"It's a gift, he meant it that way." Edith said. "I hope you'll accept it, for his sake."

"Five- thousand-" Tom couldn't even speak the number. He looked at Sybil, her hands clasped, eyes shining.

"We could save it." She said quietly. "For the baby, to send it away to school. To a good school."

"Or we could buy our own house." He said finally, looking over at her. Sybil cradled her belly then, face aglow at this new prospect. A house of their own!

"Not a large one…I've been putting aside a little money, I don't know how much it would be in the end yet, but maybe we could have a decent size?"

"It doesn't have to be big at all. I'd be happy in a cottage." Sybil said.

Smiling as her sister and brother in-law excitedly discussed the possibilities of Lord Grantham's gift, Edith slipped from the room. To her left was the front door, stained glass decorated the inner window, casting colored shadows on the wall. Across from her was a swinging door. Pushing against it she found herself in the kitchen, a large woman was at the stove cooking. Glancing over her shoulder, the woman's dimpled cheeks, rosy from the steaming pot smiled merrily at her.

"I'm sorry to disturb you." Edith said quickly,

"You're looking for your footman I expect?' her Irish brogue was lilting and Edith found the woman instantly a pleasant looking soul. "He's out in back. I'll not have him smoking in my kitchen."

"Thank you. Oh, I'm Lady Edith-"

"The Mistress's sister." The cook bowed her head respectfully, "I'm Mrs. Glavin."

"Very glad to meet you."

"Will you be needing anything?"

"No, thank you. I only came to find Thomas."

"Like I said he's out back. Smoking." Clearly the woman did not approve. "He'd do better to eat if you ask me. The boy is too thin." Edith smiled politely. "Here you'll take a nice cup of tea," the woman handed her a cup and saucer. Edith's stomach rumbled at the tempting offer of sandwiches Mrs. Glavin held out to her. "You'll take a bite to eat, and you'll go upstairs and rest." Before she knew it, Edith found herself back out in the hall, cup and napkin in hand. Sybil was on the stairway, calling for her.  
>"There you are, I see you've met Mrs. Glavin. Well, come upstairs, I'll show you your room."<p>

In the alleyway Thomas sat, several cigarettes at his feet.

"You oughtn't smoke alone, you know." Hearing a voice he turned, it was Branson, the cook calling after him to shut the door so she wouldn't have to smell 'those stinking cigarettes'

"I don't suppose you do?" Thomas asked, and Branson shook his head.

"What are you doing here Thomas?" he shrugged, flicking ash off onto the cobblestones.

"Lady Edith needed an escort, she asked me to come."

"Really?" Branson looked less than believing. "What'd you tell her?"

"Nothing." Thomas said. "She said that she'd heard I did a favor for Lord Grantham, and said I ought to be rewarded. She asked her old man and he agreed." He blew out a smoke ring.

"Lord Grantham is still your better, and my wife's father, so long as you're under our roof, you'll pay him the same courtesy you pay him at Downton." Branson said.

"Where am I sleeping?" Thomas asked.

"Well Mrs. Glavin doesn't need the downstairs room by the kitchen, so you'll take it." Branson said. "We make our own breakfasts, and take them in the kitchen. I don't know what your duties are to Lady Edith, but get this-" he leaned over the skinny footman, "you hurt Lady Edith, or try what you did back in Downton, there isn't a soul alive that will keep me from throwing you out in that crowd back at the station." Thomas did try not to care that Branson could probably take him in a fight. No, the former chauffer had not been in the war, but he had a good half foot on him. Instead, he smirked.

"Haven't you heard? I'm turning a new leaf." Branson scowled, and Thomas nearly sobered. "Best behavior." He said finally. "I'm only here because Lady Edith asked me to come." He took a drag from his cigarette, looking at the ground. "Is she alright?" stuffing his hands in his pockets, Branson considered the question for a moment, wondering if Thomas even cared, or if he was only trying to make nice. He waited for the footman to look him in the eye before answering.

"She's a bit shook up." He replied. "But she'll be alright." If Thomas was relieved, he didn't show it.

"Well thanks anyway." He flicked his cigarette. "Suppose it isn't safe to go for a walk is it?"

"Not for you no." Branson said. "Stay in the alley, and clean up your cigarette ends, you're spoiling the view." And he headed back inside. Once the door was shut, Thomas sank back down onto the crate he'd been sitting on. Heart pounding, he hadn't felt this relieved since…well since he'd got sent home from the war. Lady Edith would be alright. He didn't know what he'd expected her to do. He'd hoped she was of stronger stuff than to faint in a crowd, but at least it wasn't from something silly like the heat. He remembered her frantically calling for him, not Branson, as the crowd had pulled her away from them. Thomas wouldn't admit it out loud, probably not to anyone, not even Miss O'Brian, but when Edith had been pulled out of his grasp, his heart nearly stopped.

It wasn't that he loved her. Not like that. Thomas knew in his bones he couldn't love her in that way, but there was still a feeling that he wasn't quite used to. He supposed it was the beginnings of friendship. At once, he pushed that away. A friendship with a lady of the house was unlikely, highly improper and forbidden. Everyone would think she was after him, or vice-versa. He wished he could speak with Lady Edith, just to try and clarify. She didn't look at him as a servant, that she'd made clear. Then what was he? He worried she might think of him as Sybil thought of Branson…what if she expected more out of…whatever it was between them? He felt his stomach lurch. He'd never pull off such pretence, not like he did with Daisy. She was simple and easily fooled. He had a feeling Lady Edith would see through his attempts, and anyway he found the idea of lying to her distasteful. Sort of like keeping things from Miss O'Brian, only not quite.

"If you're just going to sit there taking up space, you may as well get in here and help me!" the kitchen window slammed shut, Mrs. Glavin's wide form retreating back to the stove. Getting to his feet, Thomas wiped any ash off his pants, sighing heavily. Now wasn't the time to ponder these things, but he made no mistake in thinking that he could merely avoid Lady Edith. Somehow he'd just have to get her alone and talk to her. Just to clear things up.


	4. Chapter 4

_So you all are officially amazing for putting up with my lazy behind and waiting like the wonderful people that you are for me to write this chapter. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU my pretties! As suspected, Edith and Thomas get up to shenanigans, and hey- what's this...is Edith making special friends? Reviews are always welcome! - darthsydious_

* * *

><p>Thomas didn't know what to expect, or what was expected of him going with Lady Edith to Ireland, but he certainly didn't think 'kitchen hand' was what they meant by helping her. Be that as it may, Thomas found himself with an apron around his neck as Mrs. Glavin sat him at the table and gave him a bowl of peas to prepare.<p>

"You know what you're doing do you?" she asked as he snapped the ends off.

"I was in the army."

"I thought you only peeled potatoes there."

"I know what I'm doing." He said.

"Do you? Well," she reached for the bowl, "If this isn't enough of a challenge for the soldier perhaps you ought to black the stove?"

"I'm only here to help Lady Edith." He snapped, "I'm not your servant."

"You're still someone's help, however little it is." Mrs. Glavin tossed back at him. She turned back to the stove, and Thomas slowly sat back down. She turned back again from the pot on the stove. "So you're going to stay after all, how chivalrous of you." She held the bowl out to him and he took it, gritting his teeth as he did so. There was a quiet knock on the door, followed by Lady Edith poking her head in. He jumped to his feet, catching the bowl before it spilled to the floor.

"Oh I'm sorry!" she said, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Not at all your ladyship." Mrs. Glavin said. "You finished your tea?"

"Yes I did, thank you by the way."

"A nice cup of tea always sets you to rights."

"I actually came down to speak with Thomas." Edith said, setting the cup on the counter.

"Did you?" the older woman asked, and for a moment, Thomas wondered if she'd toss Lady Edith out, he doubted it was beyond the Irishwoman. "Well if you're going to talk, you may as well help." An apron was held out to Edith, and Thomas waited for her to say the matter could wait. But once again, Thomas found himself surprised. By the Irishwoman and Lady Edith. She took it, tying the strings around her waist and sat down. "You give her those, and you peel these." The peas were handed to Edith, and Thomas was given a basket of potatoes. "Since you're such an expert on potatoes." She said, and went to the stove, clattering the lids and spoons as she checked the pots.

"I hope I didn't get you in trouble." Edith said quietly,

"Those peas won't de-string themselves you know." Mrs. Glavin said.

"You break the ends off." Thomas said, showing her on a few.

"Oh-" she copied his movements, badly, but managed on her own. "Anyway- I hope I didn't get you into trouble, earlier."

"Nothing I can't handle." He said with a shrug. "Anyway you're safe, that's what counts."

"You mean because Lord Grantham would sack you if I wasn't."

"Well that's part of it." He said with a smirk and Edith's smile was genuine then. She liked that he was so honest with her. Most servants would simply tell you that nothing else mattered but their employers. Thomas cared for himself and his work, as he ought to.

"I'm so glad you're not hurt either." Edith said, carefully plucking the ends off the peas. She glanced up at him, "Papa would have my head if I came home and told him he'd need another footman."

"I doubt he'd miss me very much." Thomas snorted.

"You mustn't say such things!" Edith said with a start. "Everyone who leaves is missed."

"Not everyone." He flicked a peel into the bin.

"Edith?" the group looked up at the kitchen door, Sybil appeared. "What are you doing here? I thought you went upstairs to rest."

"I did, I feel better now though, and I might as well be useful."

"Oh." Sybil looked disbelieving, but let it be. "Branson and I are just going into town for errands, and we're sending Papa a telegram, to let him know you've arrived safely."

"Without our colourful arrival I hope." Edith said and Sybil laughed.

"I thought we'd save that for a later date. Do you need anything while we're gone?" She shook her head. "Well we won't be long." The door swung shut again, leaving the three to their work.

~O~

Several days later, it became Edith's habit to go down to the kitchen and help prepare the vegetables. Mrs. Glavin didn't seem to really care if she were a lady or not, though she pretended it mattered well enough before the master and mistress. Thomas appreciated Lady Edith's efforts as well. It was quite a change from a comfortable sitting room, a hot, stuffy kitchen. The difference was appealing to her, but she was becoming bored in the routine. Tensions were still high outside the little flat, and Tom decided it was still too dangerous for Edith or Thomas to go out alone. So they remained in the house for several weeks, leaving only to attend Mass on Sundays. Until one Friday evening, Thomas was smoking in the ally after lunch, per his habits when he saw a group of young boys kicking an almost flat football down the street.

"Oy, you there, you got a bicycle pump?" they asked, seeing him there.

"Might." Thomas said, flicking ash on the floor. "What'll ya do for me if I get it for ya?" the boys looked at each other, then back at him.

"You haven't had a proper drink in a while, I'd wager." Said the eldest, probably mid-twenties. Thomas was quiet. "Could tell you a place, not far from here."

"I don't drink." It was a lie, but Thomas wasn't going to tell them he wasn't allowed to go out.

"English and a liar." The boy laughed, the others grinned. "Tell you what, get us the pump, and we'll escort you there ourselves, so you won't get your hair mussed up. Thomas blew out a smoke ring. Setting the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he turned, going inside. The group stood there, shifting from foot to foot, minding that no policeman was watching them. In a few minutes the kitchen door opened again. Thomas reappeared with the pump, and a bag of apples.

"You bribing us?" the eldest asked, passing the fruit to the others to distribute.

"Where's your ball?"

"I can do it."

"I'll do it." Thomas said and took the football from them. They watched, crunching noisily, smacking their lips and spitting seeds as he inflated the ball back to its usual state.

"Much obliged." The boy said. "I'm Killian, and this is Breandan, my younger brother Emmet, and that's the twins Quinlan and Quilan." Thomas nodded to them. "Suppose the English don't have manners do they? Or were you never taught to introduce yourselves?"

"Thomas." He said finally, flicking the end of his cigarette away.

"I know lady works here, Mrs. Glavin. She's my aunt." Killian said. "What'r you, her kitchen boy?"

"No. Footman for Lady Edith, visiting the missus here." Thomas said. It wouldn't hurt to cultivate friends here, so he held out his carton of cigarettes, Killian took one, sticking it behind his ear for later.

"Reckon Aunt'll still put you to work." Killian said with a laugh. "Pub down street is pretty nice one. Maybe not as fine as the ones you're used to, but I warrant a better pint." He flicked his gaze up over to the little house, "You ought to bring your Ladyship. She might fancy a night out." Thomas looked at them suspiciously. "Nothing funny, Aunt just says she was cooped up. No worries." He slapped Thomas on the arm. "No one wants an old maid out here."

"She's not an old maid." Thomas said, before he could stop himself. "I mean she ain't homely." Killian laughed

"She's not is she? Well does she fancy a dance or two?"

"She might." Thomas said,

"Well bring her by, we'll see if we can't get her to drink one for the good lord and kick up her heels with the best of us." He took his cigarette from behind his ear, putting it in the corner of his mouth. "McNally's Pub is just down street, take left. Can't miss it." Thomas nodded. "Thanks for the smoke." He said and the group was off, kicking the football down the sidewalk, joking as they went.

Back inside, Mrs. Glavin was waiting for him by the door.

"Talking to a group of ruffians were you? You'd do well to leave them all alone. Nothing but trouble, I hope you're going to lock up that pump, they'll come and steal it, along with the breath right from your lungs if they had the chance!"

"One of 'em was your nephew."

"Which one?"

"Killian."

"Humph. Worst of them all. What'd he tell you?"

"Nothing." Thomas set the pump back in the hall cupboard. "Just wanted the pump for the football."

"And?"

"And nothing." Thomas said with a shrug. He took the apron off the hook and tied it around him. "Just wanted the pump, gave him a cigarette."

"And some of my apples thank you very much."

"Doesn't hurt to share." He said,

"Share trouble if you ask me." She said and went back to the stove. "That tray on the table there is to go to Lady Edith, she's in the library."

"She ask for it?"

"What do you care? I said bring it to her!" Thomas set his work aside with a grumble, not caring if she heard him or not. Taking the tray he backed through the door, glaring at her. "You can keep your insolent looks to yourself, young man," she glanced back at him. "And mind your company outside this house."

The kitchen door swung shut behind him as he turned to the sitting room across the hall to where Lady Edith was sitting. At the only desk in the house, Edith was answering letters, she'd brought her own writing case so she wouldn't needlessly waste Tom and Sybil's.

"Is this from Mrs. Glavin?" she asked, seeing him with the tray. He nodded. "It can go there," she nodded to the empty space on the desk. "Will you have a cup, or is she driving the whip today?"

"Rather grumpy." He said. "I've news though."

"Oh?"

"Met a few fellows today, they needed a favor. Didn't see the harm in it,"

"Thomas! We're not suppose to- I mean they shouldn't know we're English, what if the people at Tom's work hear about us?"

"I didn't tell 'em anything important." He said. "Anyway they were telling me about a pub, down the way. They said it was quiet, nice place." Edith kept on looking at her letter, but she was paying attention to what Thomas said. "They know Mrs. Glavin, and she'd been telling them you were cooped up here. Said the pub was a good place to go. Alright for likes of us anyway, bein' English."

"Well I certainly couldn't go…even if I wanted to."

"You do though." He said, venturing a smile.

"Well I suppose I do." Edith said, she folded the letter in half, tucking it in an envelope. "Even if I could go, how would I? I'm certain Tom would absolutely forbid it, and Sybil wouldn't like it either. If my father knew…" she didn't finish that sentence.

"Who says anyone should know?" he asked. "You're grown and all, said yourself you wanted to make your own decisions."

"Well yes but there is a difference- I mean one doesn't-"

"One does all the time." Thomas said. "I mean people, every day. It'd just be the one night. Your sister has that town meeting coming up on Friday, we won't be attending that, for sure. We could slip out, have a pint, be back before they even got home. Mrs. Glavin never stays past dinner time."

"A pint?" Edith asked, and she colored a little, though her eyes sparkled with curiosity and adventure. "I've never had a pint before."

"May be your only chance to have one." Thomas said. "Go on then. Live a bit for once." he leaned closer "Be our secret." Edith's mouth turned up into the tiniest of smiles, mischief in the air.

"Well I suppose…only once wouldn't hurt would it?"

~O~

**Friday Night**

Dinner time came and went, Edith's stomach was in knots the whole meal with apprehension and excitement.

"You're a bit fancy." Sybil said as they cleared the plates away. They'd sent Mrs. Glavin home early so she could prepare for the town meeting.

"Well…it seemed a shame not to wear it after going to the trouble to pack it."

"Is it new?"

"No, I had it last year." They set the plates by the sink where Thomas was filling the dishpan. "How long will you be at the meeting?"

"I expect almost all night." Sybil said. "Tom is a member of the press, and I'm certain a good deal of it will have to do with the war propaganda."

"Should you go in your condition?" Edith asked

"No, she shouldn't." Tom said, entering the kitchen. "But she's stubborn as your mother I expect, so she insists on coming."

"Some of it will have to do with my work I'm sure." Sybil said. "I rested all day anyway, and have barely been on my feet. I'll be perfectly fine."

"Well go get your hat, we should be off so we can get a seat before the rush."

"What are your plans for the evening?" Sybil asked as Edith followed her out of the kitchen.

"Oh…I don't know, I'll probably just read Mama's letter, I've a few more photographs to add to the album, they developed very well in the washroom.

"You washed all of that out of the tub?"

"I didn't. Thomas did, but he promises it's clean."

"Alright."

"Come on we'll be late." Tom said, notebook and pencil in his hand as he waited by the door.

"We'll be home quite late," Sybil said, tugging her gloves on, "Don't expect us before midnight." Edith forced herself to remain placid as she bid them goodnight, wishing them a safe journey. At last the door shut behind them, the key turned in the lock and their footsteps were heard down the sidewalk. The kitchen door creaked open, Thomas poked his head out.

"They gone?"

"Yes, yes, do you need help with the dishes?"

"We'd get out faster." He said and she followed him back to the kitchen. Hurriedly they washed the last of the flatware, drying it and setting it back in the tray. Plates in the cupboard, the dishpan emptied and wiped clean, they looked over the kitchen quickly before hurrying to the hall cupboard. Edith took her coat and Thomas helped her into it before taking his hat off the peg. They tossed their aprons in and shut the door, not bothering to see if they were hung up.

Out into the warm spring evening they ran, the kitchen door shut behind them. Thomas looked over at Edith, her face aglow with excitement at the lit street, cobblestones shining with the day's rain, reflecting pools of yellow light in the puddles. He couldn't help but smile. Perhaps he did have mischievous intent for the evening, but he liked seeing Lady Edith so pleased.

"There you are!" a voice said, they turned just as they reached the door. "You must be Thomas' Ladyship." Thomas glanced at Edith.

"No, I'm not anybody's ladyship here." Edith said, and held out her hand. "I'm Edith Crawley." The man grinned.

"Killian O'Reilly. Here's my best mate Breandan Donnelly." The man tipped his hat, grinning at Edith.

"How do you do?" Edith asked and shook his hand as well.

"Very well Miss Crawley." Thomas didn't like that she had dismissed her title so quickly.

"Lady Edith." He said to her "You're sure you want to go in after all?"

"Of course!" she laughed. "Aren't you thirsty?" Thomas was at a crossroads. Part of him didn't want to miss this revolution for the world, the other part was sick with worry that something terrible would happen. But what could happen? After all Lady Edith was sure to know her limits, and she drank wine all the time in England. She smoked herself, and had heard her share of bad language when Downton Abbey was a convalescence home. Besides he was there in case any riff-raff broke out. So Thomas nodded

"Sure I am." He said with a grin. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't gonna bottom out and go home."

"I believe the term is 'bottoms up'." Edith retorted and Breandan and Killian laughed heartily as they pushed the door open. Quite a few had decided not to attend the town meeting. Talk ceased when Edith stepped in, all eyes turned toward the fair-haired woman standing in a forest green frock. Beads sparkled like fish scales, shimmering different colors as she and the skinny man beside her walked over to the bar. Her coat came off, and was handed to Killian. One of the barmaids sighed a little, admiring the dress.

"Did you all forget to drink or something?" Killian asked, "McNally, a round for my party here, especially for the lady!" talk resumed again, music began to play again and the couples dancing began clacking their heels and taking turns on the floor.

"What's this called?" Edith asked over the noise as a dark glass was set before her. Off-white foam speckled the drink as it sifted to the top. She picked it up to drink

"Wait a minute, now, let it filter first." Killian said. "And it's a Guinness, are you daft?"

"I've never had one." She said honestly, looking back at the glass as the draft settled.

"Well lace up your boots." He said. "Alright, when all the foams up, then you can drink it." She waited patiently until he nodded that it was ready and picked up the glass.

"Cheers then." She said with a nervous smile. She began to drink, and the men around her felt inclined to watch her out of the corner of their eyes to see if she liked it or not, or if she could even stand the liquor. Thomas took a generous gulp from the pint, deciding if he ever had to flee England, he'd come to Ireland, if for nothing else than the superior beer. And cheaper to boot. He turned to comment to Lady Edith, but he was shocked to see she was still drinking.

"Oy- not so fast-" he started, making to take her arm, but she batted his hand away with her free hand, Killian and Breandan stared, a little surprised. With a heaving breath, she set the glass down, empty. Foam rimmed the glass in spots. The bartender stood there, cloth in hand. Killian looked at her with something akin to pure admiration. He snapped his fingers

"McNally, another round for my ladyship, I'll have hers for long as she can take them." Edith looked at Thomas, grinning from ear to ear.

"Come on then you goose!" she laughed "Double or nothing I can beat you again!" Thomas was still a moment.

"Lady Edith-" he said quietly, her smile fell a little. His gaze shifted quickly from her to the group around them. "How can you double or nothing when you ate all the humbugs?" he laughed genuinely now. "I'll take that wager." A cheer went up and two more pints appeared before them.

Edith out drank Thomas in five pints, she beat a local in another two and by the ninth she and Thomas were smoking and hosting a rousing game of poker. By the eleventh, Killian taught her to play pool, and by the fourteenth, Thomas decided she ought to go home.

"Come on," he said, slurring a little, "Lady Edith-" he tapped her shoulder

"Nooo no we're all having such fun, aren't we?"

"Yes!" Killian and their party crowed.

"Yes but we'll be in trouble if we don't go." Thomas said, weaving slightly. "Your sister will be back around midnight."

"Midnight!" Edith opened her eyes a little wider, swaying. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to." Breandan said, blinking at his pocket watch.

"Then I have to go." She stood up, wobbling as she put her shoes back on. "Killian- Mr. O'Reilly, hold my cigarette for a moment."

"Sure there, anything else I can hold for you?"

"Your own liquor thank you." She said. "Here," she dug in her purse, shoes now buckled. "I want to pay you, for all the pints, such lovely pints- weren't they lovely Thomas? We should have pints- should have pints back home…" digging through her purse, she handed Killian a fistful of money. "How much is that?"

"Oh I couldn't take that." He said, to Thomas' surprise. "Think of them as a gift from me, welcoming you to Ireland."

"Well- what a nice- that's a lovely way to welcome people- don't you think so Thomas? It's a lovely way. Do you know how we welcome people to England?" she asked, Killian shook his head. She was about to throw her arms around him and kiss him, if not for the fact that Thomas grabbed her from behind,

"Whupsy-daisy, you're unsteady!" Thomas said, Killian just laughed. Edith made to protest, granted mostly out of confusion at being jostled through the crowd by Thomas, her coat hanging in her shoulders.

"Goodnight your Ladyship!" Killian waved,

"Goodnight!" she called back, as she waved her coat slipped off and she tripped over it. Saved only by Thomas catching her just before she hit the ground.

"Come on, I think we'd better go now before you really hurt yourself." He said, waving goodbye to the pub.

Stumbling along the sidewalk, Edith giggled

"Thomas- Thomas!"

"Shh!"

"Thomas!" she whispered, loudly.

"What?"

"I beat you." He smiled at this

"You did."

"You didn't think a lady could drink."

"No I didn't. I beat you at poker though."

"I did didn't I-"

"What?"

"I owe you money." She said. They were outside the kitchen door now. "Here," she handed him the fistful of money "You're a good friend Thomas. Such a good friend. I never had anybody I could talk to, or have such fun with. I'm so glad you came with me." Thomas wasn't quite sure what her intent was when she leaned toward him, but she only put her arms around him, hugging him outright.

"Lady Edith-" he said,

"Oh hug me back Thomas, that's what friends do, so I'm told." So he did, awkwardly lifting his arms and patting her back. She released him, smiling lazily. "You know a lot of people think upstairs and downstairs can't be friends, but I think we make a fairly good job of it." Through his boozy fog, his brain registered this, and he smiled.

"Yes I think so too."

"Call me Edith please." She said.

"Edith."

"Thank you. Goodnight Thomas." She fumbled with the doorknob, turning it and running directly into the door.

"I have the key Edith."

"So you do!" she crowed, giggling, and letting out a rather unladylike snort. At this Thomas couldn't hold back his laughter. They stumbled into the dark kitchen.

"Shh!"

"Shhh!" she repeated, putting a finger to her lips as they felt their way through the dark kitchen, and towards the stairs. "Goodnight Thomas."

"Can you manage?"

"I think- I think-" trying three times to climb the steps she shook her head. So he slung her arm around his neck, having her lean against the wall, they sort of slid up the stairs, bumping against the opposite wall at the top. They reached her door, and Edith fiddled with the handle

"You'll have to manage from here I think." He said and she nodded, falling into her room as her door swung open. Not wanting to leave her on the floor, he stepped over her, lifting her up under her arms and sort of dragging her onto her bed.

"Thomas," she said, kicking her shoes off. "Killian's a nice sort of chap isn't he?" he was quiet a moment.

"I suppose so your Ladyship. Goodnight."

"You're supposed to call me Edith!" he climbed down from the bed, shutting the door behind him. "Humph." She sat up, swaying. Holding her hands out to steady her, she wobbled over to the dresser, setting her jewelry on the stand. Managing to wriggle out of her dress, she tossed it over the trunk and dug for her nightgown. There was a sudden shower of pebbles on her window, and she nearly fell over with a start. Covering herself with her robe, she went to the window, pushing it open. There in the lamplight stood Killian.

"Edith!"

"Killian!" she said, though the sudden rush of air around her bare arms startled her, and she thrust her arms through the sleeves of her robe, tying it securely.

"I just wanted to know if you would be in Mass on Sunday."

"Yes of course I will be!" she said. "That's a silly thing to come all this way to ask me for."

"Well I had something for you too." Before she could ask, he sprinted over to the wall, climbed the gutter spout and produced a small flower his pocket. "I didn't really get to say goodnight."

"No we didn't." she said, accepting his gift. He leaned closer, smiling down at her. Knowing he'd never get another chance, he bent his head and kissed her quickly.

"Goodnight Edith!" he said and slid back down before she even had a chance to react. She remained there, leaning out the window, holding the flower between her fingers. "I'll see you Sunday, will I?"

"Yes!" she said.

"I wish I knew a verse or two, men are supposed to say things to girls on their balcony."

"I'm not on a balcony." She frowned.

"You ought to be." He said, rather solemnly. Edith didn't know what to say to that.

"Goodnight." He said finally. "Sleep well." That seemed like the appropriate thing to say.

"Thank you. Goodnight Killian." She left her window open a little as she crawled into bed, listening to him whistle down the road into the early morning.


	5. Chapter 5

_So this chapter was a pain and a half to write because I literally hit a massive road block. But it's back on track, going the way I want it to. I'm sorry it took so long in coming, but it's here at last! Enjoy it! - darthsydious_

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><p>What awoke Edith was the noise of curtains being thrown back, sunlight flooding her room, and she gasped, her eyes opened just a crack before snapping shut, she buried her head in her hands, groaning.<p>

"Land sakes!" a clearly female Irish brogue made her start. "Shame, for shame!" the voice belonged to Mrs. Glavin, and she spoke angrily, though hushed so as not to wake the rest of the house.

"Mrs. Glavin!" Edith gasped, "Wh-what are- how did you get in here? You're not due until before lunch."

"I came early. My Killian told me what he'd been up to, said a certain lady had been kicking up her heels at McNally's. A hooligan more like!" a cool washcloth was pressed to her forehead, and then smoothed over her eyes.

"Oh Mrs. Glavin nothing dreadful happened." Edith said.  
>"Keep your voice down!" the woman hissed. "Good grief, you've never snuck in have you?" she retreated across the room, shut the door tightly and then went to the end table. "Now, sit up if you can," Edith hoisted herself up, feeling Mrs. Glavin shifting the pillows up and pushing her shoulders back against them. "There, now drink this." A glass was thrust at her, yellowish-orange orbs floated within.<p>

"What- what is it?" Edith asked, feeling green just looking at it.

"Just drink it. You'll feel better in an hour or so. Enough time to get the stench of whatever you did last night out of your hair."

"My hair?!" Edith felt up to her head, worried.

"You stink like beer and cigarettes." Mrs. Glavin wrinkled her nose. "Now drink that up while I fetch you warm water to wash your hair with. Hurry up now!" and she bustled from the room. Slowly, Edith sat up while trying to process what just happened. When the cook returned she found Edith still sipping the concoction. "Hurry up and drink that down! I haven't got all morning!"

"Mrs. Glavin I really don't-"

"Toss it back-" the cook said, gently lifting the glass in Edith's hand to her lips. "Go on. Do it quick and you won't notice the taste."

Somehow, Edith wasn't quite sure how, Mrs. Glavin had her up and dressed in less than an hour.

"Now come on downstairs. If you're up before them they won't suspect anything."

~O~

In the kitchen Thomas said, a glass full of whatever it was Mrs. Glavin gave Edith sat beside him. "You sit there." She said to Edith, directing her to the end of the kitchen table. "And mash up these cold potatoes." In a moment the smell of meat cooking filled the room. "If you think you'll go without breakfast you're sadly mistaken." She said, tapping her spoon on the edge of the pan, shaking off the grease. "You both ought to be ashamed, behaving like that! Tomorrow is the Lord's day, I expect you both in church, and to confess whatever it was you did as well."

"Mrs. Glavin I told you-"

"Oh hush you don't have to fill my head with your wickedness!" she said. "Your heads hurt I expect."

"Yes ma'am." They both murmured.

"That'll be the lord's way of saying not to drink. The bible says those indulging in drink won't inherit the kingdom."

"Yes ma'am." Edith and Thomas exchanged sheepish grins. Mrs. Glavin went on turning the pork and seasoning it before setting it aside and starting a pan of milk gravy.

"Killian told me you did a bit of dancing." She said at last, and Edith looked up.

"Yes I did. He taught us a little."

"Well…there's no shame in dancing. I suppose the drink was the worst thing you did last night." Edith and Thomas again looked at each other, deciding not to tell about the poker game, or the bets at the pool table.

"Yes." Edith said. "And Thomas and Killian took very good care of me."

"Humph. Never knew that boy to take care of a thing but himself. Doubt it'll last. You just mind you stay out of that pub, or if you must go in, mind you're not drinking like a slag."

"Mrs. Glavin!"

"Hush and come over here. I'll show you what we're going to do with those potatoes."

When Sybil and Tom came downstairs, they were surprised to find Edith and Thomas already were setting the table, and breakfast being laid out.

"Mrs. Glavin!" Sybil said, quite surprised. "What on earth are you doing here so early?"

"A woman in your condition bringing breakfast to the table? I'll not hear of it. You go on and sit down. Don't worry about extra wages. I hardly did a thing with Thomas and Lady Edith here to help me." She ushered Sybil to her seat. "And I won't hear another word about it."

"How was the town meeting?" Edith asked

"A good deal of riff raff." Sybil sighed, spreading her napkin over her lap. "I can't say that very much was accomplished, though everyone certainly had an opinion."

"They've cooled off since the attack at the station." Tom said, spooning crisp potato cakes and eggs onto his plate before passing them to Edith. "Now they're trying to focus on negotiations."

"Which no one wants to take part in, on either side." Sybil included,

"So we're just waiting for someone to make the first move." Tom finished, stabbing a sausage from the plate. "So, what did you do last night?" Thomas and Edith exchanged glances,

"We played cards, and later on I wrote to Mary."

"I didn't know you played, Edith." Mrs. Glavin set down the teapot between them.

"Mrs. Branson I'd like to take the footman, and Lady Edith to the market with me today." Sybil and Tom looked from Edith to the cook. "I could use a couple pairs of hands to help me, sacks of potatoes, and an extra basket…I'll see they come to no harm, and I'm sure they could use the fresh air. If people saw more of them, they might not be such a novelty to the neighbors." Edith thought of Killian then. Perhaps they'd see him walking.

"Well I suppose." Sybil said, "If Tom has no objections." He squared himself a little, chewing thoughtfully. Finally he shrugged.

"I don't see the harm." Edith grabbed Thomas' hand under the table, squeezing. "See that you mind Mrs. Glavin, she'll know where you ought to go and where you ought to stay out."

"Where are you going Sybil?" Edith asked. She was here to visit her sister and brother in law after all. She mustn't always be running about with Thomas.

"Just on a little errand with Tom."

"Sybil's learning to take proper photographs, that can be used in the newspaper. It isn't too tiring for her, so I thought she ought to come along with me today."

"Where _are_ you going?" Thomas asked, curiosity piqued.

"No one's to know." Tom replied, "It's a pretty quiet affair, but the press is asked to be there."

"But I'll have tomorrow." Sybil said, smiling. "Tomorrow starts my confinement and I'm on leave until the baby is born."

"You ought to show her the house we saw." Tom said, "Nice little place."

"You mean you aren't going to buy a house in England?" Edith asked

"Well, no, our life is here now." Sybil said. "I thought Papa understood that."

"He does!" she said quickly "It's only, well we all miss you so terribly, and you both could have jobs for the press just as well in England as you could in Ireland."

"Yes, and only printing one side of it." Tom said. "The English side."

"Are you telling a fair version of the Irish side?" Thomas asked

"Thomas, be quiet!" Edith said quietly, flicking a nervous gaze between the footman and the ex-chauffer.

"I don't put down anything but the truth." Tom said, drawing himself up to his full height. "I don't need to spread lies for people to listen to me." Sybil reached for his arm, squeezing gently. Noticing, he sighed a little. "I don't mean to quarrel with you." He looped his thumbs through his waistcoat pockets. "I won't quarrel with you at any rate. A man's allowed his opinion. Sybil we'd better go, I want to get a good place and have the camera set up."

"Yes." She said, and Edith followed them to the door. Tom hefted the tricorder and camera box over his shoulder, ignoring Sybil's protests that she could manage it. "Don't let Tom's temper upset you." She said to Edith quietly as he went to check the car.

"It doesn't, anyway you mustn't worry about any of us thinking badly of what you do. I have it on good authority Papa reads your newspaper." Sybil's eyes widened.

"Does he really?" her sister nodded.

"But you mustn't tell Tom, Papa doesn't like anybody to know."

"What? That Papa is reading an Irish newspaper, printing what everybody thinks are lies?"

"No." Edith smiled, "Rather that he's quite proud of his reporter son in-law. He doesn't say it, but he does have a scrapbook, a few clippings of Tom's articles."

"Edith Crawley if you're fibbing-" Sybil began

"I'm not!" she insisted "I saw it on his desk, it was open. I guess he was adding a page. Only he doesn't know that I know."

"I shan't breathe a word."

"Sybil!" Tom's voice from the curb alerted them both.

"I'd better go. Thank you." She hugged her outright, "I promise I won't say anything to Tom…yet." And she hurried down the steps, letting her husband help her into the car.

~O~

Back in the kitchen, Mrs. Glavin put Thomas on dish duty, scolding him all the while.  
>"You ought to know better, taking a respectable lady like her to a pub." She said, "And Killian bein' there wasn't any good either." She shook the wet wooden spoon at him, "He'll do you no favors."<p>

"He didn't seem so bad last night."

"Aye, all smiles and merry talk, flirting and making eyes. He's after one thing, and he means to get it from your Lady Edith."

"She's not-"

"'Your Lady'- aye, I know. But mark my words, Killian's all sport with the girls, and all brawl with the men. He's had his share of trouble, doesn't seem satisfied until he's well in it. Can't say as he'll have long to wait if it's what he wants."

"Why's he under your skin anyway?" she set down her spoon with a clatter on the stovetop, turning to face him, hand on her hip.

"That's none of your concern, just put aside your English pride for a moment and listen to me when I tell you he's nothing but trouble." Thomas was about to reply that he guessed he could see whomever he wanted, and Lady Edith was old enough to make up her own mind as well, but it was then that she came through the door.

"Aren't you finished the dishes yet? Let me help. The sooner we get them done, the sooner we can go!" she took her apron off the hook, tying it around her waist. Mrs. Glavin gave Thomas a look over Lady Edith's head. He realized Edith was holding out a soapy dish for him to rinse and dry.

"I'll wash." He said. "Ruin your hands otherwise."

"Humph, and who's going to see my hands?" Edith laughed, but she let him trade places with her.

"Hurry up you two, I'd like to get the market before afternoon."

The market was not unlike the one back home. Of course this was the market place for the whole of Dublin, and it was far busier.

"Don't talk to anyone unless you have to." Mrs. Glavin said. "Thomas you mind your manners, and Lady Edith."

"Shall I take a basket?" Edith asked

"Yes, you'll mind the fruits and vegetables. Thomas will carry the fish, and I shall tote the meat stuffs."

"No canned goods?" he asked cheekily, and Edith shushed him. Going to market was an event for her, since she never had to go back home. Amidst the carts and smoke and noise of vendors shouting out their wares Edith found herself on Thomas' arm, looking around with wide, eager eyes. Somewhere between a stall selling bread and a cart of fresh fruit Edith remembered she wanted to look for Killian. Not that it mattered. After all he might have a lady friend of his own. Not that she wanted to be his 'best girl' as they say. She'd only just met him. Besides luck was never on her side when it came to finding a husband. But that didn't stop her from looking.

"You two," Mrs. Glavin said, "Stand here, and don't move." She pointed at the both of them, wagging her finger between them. "I'm going in to the butcher's. We're late because you two dawdled over the breakfast dishes, so there's a fair que. Heaven help you if the brisket is all bought up." She said and went as far as the doorway, for that was where the line started.

They stood beside a newsstand, their baskets in their hands, not wanting to set them down for fear of Mrs. Glavin scolding them from the doorway. They didn't put it past the Irishwoman to shout at them from across the street, though they did admit it was good of her to let them so far off her leash.

"Thomas look!" Edith said, "Hold my basket a moment."

"Where are you going?"

"Just to buy a paper." She said and went to the newsstand. She returned in a moment, reaching for her basket.

"Go ahead and read it, I'll hold it for a bit." He said so she unfolded the paper, reading the headline.

"The Lord Mayor of Cork was murdered." She said,

"Who's that?"

"I don't know, hold on a moment." She opened the paper, finding the right story. "Here it is. Tomás Mac Curtain, he was Lord Mayor in Cork since January. Soldiers from the Irish Constabulary broke into his home- how awful!" she murmured.

"Aye, a sad day indeed." Said a voice behind her and they both turned.

"Killian!" Edith said, "My heavens, you startled me!" he tipped his hat, smiling from ear to ear at her. "Do you know anything else about this? I mean why they would do such a thing?"

"Are you political Miss Edith?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand a good deal of it. My sister is the political one." Edith said, turning back to the paper.

"Just as well." Killian shrugged. He plucked the paper from her hands. "It's nothing more than rabble rousers. Nothing for you to worry your head over."

"There's no need to be rude." Thomas said.

"What do you mean by that?" Edith asked Killian "Of course I've a right to be worried. Politics here affect politics in England. It affects my family, my brother in law. What if England decides to send more soldiers here to help the RIC? I shouldn't think the people of Ireland would appreciate that."

"No we wouldn't. We don't need any more English soldiers." Killian said and spat on the ground. Thomas and Edith both looked at the ground then, then back up at him. Killian handed her back the newspaper. "Let's not talk about politics anyway." He said, shrugging easily, smiling again at her. "Makes me more enemies than friends, and I'd rather have you for a friend." Edith didn't know what to say then. Not about the newspaper, his ease at insulting her and then his switch to placating her.

"Well," she said finally. "It's been very nice seeing you again Mr. O'Reilly. Enjoy the rest of the day." And she took her basket from Thomas, took his arm and turned to leave.  
>"Wait a minute, is that all?" he laughed after her. Edith turned then, frowning.<br>"All of what, Mr. O'Reilly?"

"I mean is that all you've got to say to me? No thanks for last night." His smile was too easy, too comfortable with Edith for Thomas' liking, so he stepped forward.

"She said good day, that's all there is." He said. "Come along Lady Edith."

"Aye, you ought to be going, _Lady_ Edith." Killian said.

"Now just a minute-"

"I said don't talk to anyone!" Mrs. Glavin seemed to take exquisite delight in appearing at the most opportune moment. She affixed a glare though, not to Edith and Thomas, but Killian. "And you, what are you about?"

"Aunt, good to see you again so soon."

"Don't be smart." She said, setting her brown paper wrapped packages in Thomas' basket. With her hands free now, she pushed the pair down the street "Go on. I'll join you directly." Craning their necks, Edith and Thomas watched as they started down the road.

She waited until they were out of earshot before turning back to her nephew.

"What are you up to Killian O'Reilly?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "Just taking a stroll, meeting a few friends."

"That's a pretty line, one you must know by heart, but I warn you it won't work on me." She said. "Mark me, my boy, stay away from Lady Edith Crawley. She's not for you."

"Why? Because she's rich? Because she's English?"

"Because she isn't for you." Mrs. Glavin ground out. "You don't need to go spoiling her life with your political riff-raff."

"What riff-raff?"

"Don't think I don't know you were at the station a few weeks ago when that riot broke out." She said. "Police are still looking. There were plenty of eye witnesses, and plenty who are willing to cut a deal to save themselves to get someone else behind bars."

"They looking for me?" he asked, quietly.

"For anyone who was there." She said flatly. "Whatever you're mixed up in, that's your affair. Don't make it someone else's. You've got no right disturbing that young lady."

"That's up to her isn't it?"

"Not if I can help it." Mrs. Glavin said. "You mind what I said." She straightened, "Keep out of sight if you can." She said. "And don't go poking around the Branson's anymore. You just keep away."

"You ashamed of me Aunt?" he asked. She turned to look at him then. He stood to the side, hands in his pockets, his face masked to hide whatever he was feeling.

"I'm ashamed of what you do." She said finally.

"What I do is who I am." He said stepping closer, his voice low and angry. "God's sake- don't you care? Don't you see what's happening around us? We're at war and all you can do is bury your head in the sand. Why don't you just declare yourself English now and have done with it so if they do win, you'll already be on their side." Catherin Glavin struck him across the cheek then. He rubbed his stinging face, not seeing her hand come up and grasp his ear.

"Don't ever let me catch you saying that again." She said savagely. "Irish blood is in my veins, and will remain so until Hell freezes over." she still held his ear as she spoke. "You listen to me and hear me plain Killian O'Reilly: You stay away from Lady Edith. You stay away from the Branson's. And stay out of sight." And she released him. Bitterly, he rubbed it. "You hear me?"

"Aye." He mumbled. At that she nodded.

"Good." She was out of earshot in a few steps, and Killian watched her go.

"But I'll see what Lady Edith has to say." He said to himself before scanning the crowds. He turned up his collar, hunching his shoulders as the sky overhead darkened and the clouds opened. He didn't care what his Aunt said. He'd see Edith if he liked. And he'd be hanged if anybody told him not to fight for his people.


	6. Chapter 6

_Stuff's about to go down y'all. Stuff. Is. Going. DOWN. _

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><p>"Papa sent the train tickets for all of us." Edith said one night at dinner. "For the wedding." Mary and Matthew would be married on the third of July, and they all had to arrive at least a week before the wedding since Edith needed to be fitted for her dress. Tom frowned at her mention of train tickets.<p>

"I could have gotten them."

"I don't think he didn't mean it as an insult." Sybil said quickly, "It's what the father of the bride does for the immediate family." Branson shrugged.

"Maybe I can pay him back when we get there."

"No, don't." Sybil said, "Please, it isn't necessary, and it won't be expected of us."

"I want to." He insisted. "We can afford it, at least for the two of us. I want to offer it back to him anyway. Even if he says no. I do have some pride you know."

"I know you do." Sybil laughed and Edith smiled a little. Mrs. Glavin came from the kitchen then, she wore her hat and coat, and her purse hung on her arm.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Branson, but I have to leave early."

"Is everything alright?" Sybil asked. The cook seemed to tremble; she licked her lips nervously, shifting.

"I don't know yet. But I must go if I can."

"It sounds very serious." Sybil said, "Should one of us go with you? Perhaps Tom could drive you-"

"No!" Mrs. Glavin started, and then quickly calmed down. "I mean no, thank you ma'am. I'd best go alone." She smiled, as if trying to comfort them somewhat.

"In this weather?" as if on cue a clap of thunder shook the house, they all looked at the ceiling, watching the light fixture sway.

"I've an umbrella, not to worry." She said. "Thomas and Lady Edith know what to do with dessert."

"Yes of course." Edith said, "And we don't mind doing the dishes either." Mrs. Glavin shifted nervously,

"Maybe you should wait until the rain lets up some-" Tom began

"I must- I really must go, please!" she said, and Tom nodded

"I'll show you to the door." He said, setting his napkin aside and he followed her through the kitchen. The three at the table remained silent, as they could hear him speaking quietly to the cook. Finally the door opened, closed and Tom returned to the kitchen. Napkin back on his lap, he looked at his plate, then the others.

"There's a rumor about a riot tonight, down at the English barracks."

"What?" Edith took Sybil's hand.

"She's worried that a relative of her's might try and go there." Thomas looked at Edith, and she looked back, both thinking of Killian.

"Tom please say you're not going!" Sybil gasped. He was quiet.

"It'd mean a good story." He said slowly.

"Tom Branson, listen to me, don't you dare go down there." Sybil said, "Let them have their riot, let some other paper get it."

"Sybil-"

"I won't let you!" she cried, "Tom if you go down there, you'll only get caught in the trouble they're starting. Those riots are nothing but senseless violence!"

"Is it senseless to want to be free?"

"That isn't what I meant and you know it!" she shot back. Thomas and Edith glanced at each other, uncomfortable.

"I know it isn't." he said finally. "If I was young and foolish, without a care I'd probably go." He said quietly, "But I'm not. I have you to worry for, and the baby."

"It isn't shameful, to want to help your country." Sybil said. "But there are better ways."

"I know." He said, and he held her hand over the table, smiling a little at her. He shook his cares off, smiling at the others now. "We'll stay in, and make a thing of it. Let them act foolish." At this he began to eat, and the others followed suit. That night Tom played his Autoharp and Sybil and Edith sang along as Thomas shined his shoes. Afterwards they played cards, and Edith taught them to play poker. Sybil didn't say anything, but Tom only laughed.

"I shouldn't be surprised at anything you Crawley women do." He said, looking over his cards. "A suffragette for a wife, a card-playing sister in-law. Who knows what mealy secrets Mary keeps? A shiv under her mattress perhaps?" The lights suddenly dimmed, and then winked out.

"That's that I guess." Edith said,

"I'll fetch the lamp," Sybil said. "So we can see to clear up."

"What time is it?" Thomas asked

"Quarter past midnight."

"Good grief!" Sybil yawned.

"You go up to bed. Thomas can hold the lamp for me to see. We'll wash the dessert plates, it won't take long." Edith said, and kissed her sister goodnight. "Goodnight Tom." She said and he kissed her goodnight as well, nodding to Thomas.

"I've shut the dampers on the stove, and the doors are locked. Best not open them until morning. Our street is pretty quiet, but if there's a riot you never know what kind of nonsense they'll take into their heads. Thomas, come here," so the footman set the lamp down and followed the former chauffer into the hallway.

"I've checked the downstairs windows, they're all locked." He said quietly, "Don't worry about the dishes tonight." He said. "Once the cards are put away, put out the lamp, and see Lady Edith to bed."

"Why?" Thomas asked, curiosity more than piqued now. "If the riots down at the barracks, that's all the way across town."

"Because it isn't at the barracks." Tom replied. "It's at the Lord and Lady Chatsworth's place, five miles from here. Grand estate. He's English, she's Irish. There's a fair amount that aren't happy about their marrying. Say she's turned herself over to the English."

"Well…that seems a petty excuse." Thomas said finally.

"It's more than that." Tom spoke in hushed tones now, in case Edith was listening. "Her father was an admiral for the military. Lord Chatsworth is friends with an Admiral Mercury. It's rumored she gave him information, things that should've remained secret."

"It's just a rumor." Thomas whispered back, "What are they going to do?" and Tom shrugged.

"After what Mrs. Glavin told me, I am glad I'm not going." He nodded now. "I'm very glad I decided not to go." Thomas thought of Lady Edith then. He knew she fancied Killian, and he knew Mrs. Glavin would be going there to stop her nephew if at all possible.

"What are they going to do?" this time the question came from the doorway. Edith held the pack of cards in her hand, the lamp blown out. Light from the street poured through the windows on the front door. Rivulets of rain ran down the glass, casting eerie shadows on her face. Tom looked from footman to lady, and then sighed.

"They're going to try and burn the house down."

"What?!" Edith gasped, and even Thomas was surprised. He'd thought that the crowd might push in, demand the Lord Chatsworth and bring him to jail, maybe beat him up, not destroy the house.

"Has this happened before?" he asked and Tom nodded after a moment.

"Why haven't you said before?!" Edith asked,

"Shh!" Tom hissed, glancing up toward the empty stairway. "I only kept it a secret because…because of your father."

"What's he got to do with this?"

"He'll think I can't take care of Sybil or…or I don't know, think I'm part of it all." He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily.

"We know you aren't." Edith said, taking his hand now. "And you've got the three of us to vouch for you now." She smiled reassuringly. "You're family Tom, and I'm afraid you're quite stuck with our better opinion of you." He returned her smile then.

"Thank you."

"Now go on to bed. I'm sure Sybil is wondering and now you've got to explain what kept you." Edith said. "We'll clear up around here."

"Have you a candle?"

"Yes."

"Goodnight then." And he retreated up the stairs.

They waited until the bedroom door shut before breathing out a long sigh.

"What do you think of that?" Edith asked. Thomas took the dishes from around the table and she followed him into the dark kitchen.

"I think they're all mad." Thomas said. "And maybe you ought not use a candle tonight."

"Well I must see to change." Edith said.

"Do the best you can without for the night." He said. "If the riot succeeds, who knows how they'll come back into town or-"

"What's that?!" Edith gasped, a whistle on the street pierced the air, and suddenly a fire wagon came barreling down at top speed, police wagons following closely, and Irish soldiers and British soldiers all riding together. Thomas and Edith hurried to the window, watching them speed by, shouting orders as they went.

"Better get up to bed." Thomas grasped her elbow. "Come away from the window." He hadn't meant to be so pushy, but something in Tom Branson's voice startled him. The city was eerily quiet, and there was not the usual music from the pub's open doorway echoing through the avenues as usual. Most of the houses were dark already. A hush had settled behind in the soldiers in the wake.

Thomas saw her up to her room,

"Check your window." He said, "Or I could if you like,"

"No I'll get it, I promise." she tried to smile as if it were nothing and he nodded,

"Very well. I'll say goodnight then-"

"Thomas," he turned in the doorway, hearing the fear in her voice. "Are you frightened?" he paused, and then nodded.

"I'm no fool." He said at last. "Good night Edith."

"Goodnight." And she shut her door. Trembling, she quickly shrugged out of her dress, fussing with the buttons in the dark. Wriggling free, she let the fabric pool at her feet, pausing now to unbuckle her shoes. Fishing her nightgown from her wardrobe, she slipped it over her head, glancing at the window every other button. Finally she tugged at the covers of the bed, as she did so, she felt a chill in the room. She turned again, and felt the edge of the bed behind her knees, stifling a gasp she felt herself fall back. The curtains blew this way and that, caught in the wind as a figure loomed through her window. Fumbling for anything within her reach, her hand grasped a candlestick. "Thomas! Thomas!" she screeched, swinging the candlestick with all her might. A hand caught her wrist; another arm stilled her kicking and squirming, or tried to.

"Hush!" she screamed again, a hand came over her mouth, and she bit down hard, tasting dirt and blood. The figure yelped in pain but didn't let go of her. Suddenly her door was flung open, Thomas and Tom barreled in, Sybil behind them holding what looked to be a cricket bat and a lamp. As light poured into the room, there was scuffling and thumping with mixed shouts. The light steadied finally, and Edith realized it was not just any intruder that Tom and Thomas were viciously wrestling to the ground. She gasped:

"Killian!" hearing his name, he looked up and Tom grabbed him then, twisting his arm behind his back. Thomas pulled her away, bringing her to stand by Sybil, keeping himself between them and the intruder. Killian was nearly unrecognizable now. Covered in mud and ash, blood trickling from his temple and his clothing was flecked with it.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I had to come here-"

"Shut up!" Branson shook him, "Edith, you know him?" she nodded a little.

"He's Mrs. Glavin's nephew…we've met before."

"Why are you here?" Tom asked, "Climbing in my house like this? Hiding from the police?"

"I've-"

"You've been to the riots." Tom said, and Killian bowed his head. "Why would you risk jail, breaking in like that?"

"I needed to see Lady Edith, right away."

"Why should she see you?" Thomas asked and the young Irishman looked at him.

"Because what I've got to say is a matter of life and death." Killian said matter-of-factly. His expression grim, as if he truly regretted what he was about to say.

"What do you mean?" Edith asked softly.

"Are you running from the police?" Tom asked, and Killian nodded.

"There were two on horseback who followed me. Branson swore then.

"Tom he should leave." Sybil said.

"Don't throw me out, not till I tell her what I've come to say!" he begged

"And have my family dragged in all this?! The police are all over town! They'll see that open window, someone's bound to have heard the screaming by now. If they catch you in here, looking the way you do- they'll say we're enabling a rioter!"

"Lady Edith, don't let them throw me out!" he pleaded as Branson shoved him out of the room and down the stairs.

"You're going to the police." Tom said. "And I'm good enough to see you there. What will you prefer I tell them to charge you with? Breaking and entering or burning the Chatsworth's residence to the ground? If I were you I'd take the latter, they'll probably be easier on you."

"Not if they get you first!" Killian shouted, "They're coming for you next!" that made the group stop. Killian was squeezed between Thomas and Branson, clinging to the stair railing, trying to reach Edith. He looked up at her, eyes pleading and terrified. "They're coming for Lady Edith next."

"What?!" Sybil took her sister's arm, wordlessly, Edith grasped her hand in return, trying to console her.

"Who told you?"

"I overheard them at the riot today, they know Lady Edith's a daughter of an Earl, I don't know if they're serious, but a good many were drunk tonight, and quite a few were in agreement they ought to come here, tonight if the police didn't stop them."

"Oh Tom!" terrified, Sybil looked to her husband.

"Are we supposed to believe you?" he asked, and Killian shrugged.

"I took off down the back way, but I know a few were heading down the main road. They were in a sorry enough state when I left, who knows what's in their heads now."

"Do you believe him?" Sybil gasped, "If he left before any of them he may as well be making it up-"

"Quiet-" Thomas started

"-for all we know he's just trying to use her to help him-"

"Shh! Quiet!" Thomas said, louder now, and they all stopped. "Do you hear that?" they all were quiet, listening to the stillness. Then, Tom looked over at Killian. Low over the city there was a steady beat. Drums over a distance, and further off there were raised voices, shouting, singing. Thomas went down the last few stairs to the front door, peering through. "There's a glow in the distance." He said softly. "Could it be the Chatsworth's?"

"Aye." Killian said.

"And…" Edith swallowed hard. "The drums?" Killian looked at the rug, at his worn boots and dirty trousers.

"Drums were for music. Said they'd make a thing of it…a bonfire." this sunk in, they looked at Killian with disgust, and he did not raise his eyes any of them.

"You- you _danced_ while their house _burns_?" Edith asked, horrified.

"And you've brought them to my house." Tom said, his voice was quiet and terrible, and Sybil thought he would kill the boy then.

"Tom," she stood beside him, taking his arm. "Tom we can go tonight. The tickets, we have those already. We _must_ get Edith out. If they're headed here-" Tom would not take his eyes off Killian.

"Led those dogs to my house to murder us all!" he roared, and shaking Sybil off, Tom grasped Killian by the coat and threw him down the stairs. Edith grasped her sister by the sleeve, stifling her scream. "Crawl away on your belly, you snake!" Tom kicked at him then, he shouted and cursed, half in English, half in Gaelic as Killian tried to get away. Thomas managed to get the door and Killian barely had time to pick up his hat before he was shoved out of the house. The door slammed shut as he made to run back inside

"Wait- please- Edith-" he landed against the wood with a sickening 'thud' and Edith found herself wincing at the noise.

"Thomas, go and get Edith's trunk, now." Sybil said.

"I can get my own satchels." Edith said. "Sybil, you and Tom must come with us." Tom nodded

"Agreed."

"But-"

"No time for buts. You're right. We have the tickets, we'll go now. Anyway we haven't got much of a choice. We leave in ten minutes, pack what you can, whatever you can." They all ran off to their rooms, flinging satchels open and throwing articles within. Sybil was taking down a red book from the library, within the pages she'd tucked the cheque from her father, looking around the sitting room, she took Tom's Autoharp, the photographs on the mantle, and that was all. It wouldn't do to weigh down the cases with useless bric-a-brac. Upstairs, as Edith hurriedly dressed, she looked out the open window, this time she could see in the distance the glow over the city in the distance. The sky burned red, and smoke was in the wind. The drums seemed to be closer now, pounding, pounding, pounding in her head, in her heart, through her veins until she thought she would rattle apart. With some effort, she shut the window, bowing her head against the glass, willing herself not to cry. She supposed it was for the loss of Killian. She would not see him again, and she did not care to. But it still hurt.

There was a knock on the door, and Edith quickly brushed her curls from her eyes, wiping her cheeks.

"Come in." it was Thomas, coat and hat already on.

"We're going out the back way, I came to help you."

"Thank you." She said, and hurriedly finished packing, shutting her trunk tightly.

"Mr. Branson and I will carry it between us, it isn't heavy." He said and Edith nodded, thrusting the hatpin through the felt and the knot of hair pinned to her head.

"Yes, thank you." She sniffled.

"Edith?" he asked quietly. She blinked back tears, and bravely smiled.

"I'm alright Thomas. Or I will be at any rate." He squeezed her hand then.

"You don't have to be brave you know." He said. "I don't mind taking the burden for now."

"I'm afraid if I'm not I'll shake apart." She said, taking her satchel from the bed and an end of the trunk. His hand covered her's, before slowly taking the handle.

"It's alright." He said. He might've meant that he'd take her things down, but Edith knew he meant that he'd look after her.

"Thank you, Thomas. I know I can always depend on you." He couldn't speak for a moment then, touched to the core. "My constant friend."

They piled into the car, luggage crammed between them and under the seats as Branson sped over the muddy cobblestones to the train station. It was not until they reached their carriage and the train began to move that Edith felt herself at last give way and she began to weep.

"Oh my dear." Sybil mourned, "It's alright now, we'll be home soon. Rest now, poor Edith, you've had such a shock tonight." Edith rested her head on her sister's wide belly, listening the child's heartbeat, letting her sister's fingers comb through her hair. The train swaying and creaking, the wheels on the track clackity-clacking all seemed to mimic those terrible drums. She doubted sleep would come, but it did, though her dreams were plagued by one particular face, streaked with ash and tears.


	7. Chapter 7

_So this has been a long time coming! I'm sorry it isn't a long chapter, but I think I'm finally starting to get back on top of writing again. So, yay! Enjoy, my lovelies. _

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><p>It was unseasonably chilly for the time of year. The group of four made their way slowly through the village and down the dark, empty road toward Downton. The train had been delayed and there hadn't been time to send a telegram or even call for the car to be sent. Their breath came out in foggy puffs as they walked, trying to keep a steady pace. It had rained the last half mile, and all four were soaked to the skin. Between Branson and Thomas was Edith's trunk. Sybil and Edith had divided up the rest of the luggage between them to carry. Tired and listless, Edith stumbled along, until Thomas caught her elbow with his free hand. She blinked tiredly<p>

"I'm just cold." She said, rain dripping from the brim of her hat.

"We're nearly there." Branson said. "Look, there's the gates." Relief was short-lived, as the drive to Downton was considerably long and the sky showed no signs of let up. When at last they got to the front door, Edith took the door handle, only to remember the house would be shut up by now.

"It's locked!" she cried over the rain.

"Can we force it?" Branson asked, she shook her head.

"Maybe I can go around to the back." Thomas said. "Someone might still be up."

"No, it's almost three, everyone must be in bed by now." Sybil said. She rubbed her belly, looking up the front of the house, an open window perhaps.

"Well we can't stand here all night." Branson said, and he raised his fists, pounding on the solid oak doors.

"_HELLO?" _

Mary thought she heard a voice shouting. Opening her eyes, she lifted her head from the pillow. Perhaps she only dreamt it.

"_OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!" _

She sat up. Now she was sure she heard it. Obviously it wasn't a thief, something must have been wrong for anyone to pound on the Earl of Grantham's door at quarter to three in the morning. Pushing the covers back, she slid her feet into her bed shoes and took her dressing gown from the chair near the vanity. Hurrying downstairs, she found Carson was shuffling out to the foyer holding a candle.

"Turn the lights on Carson, it must be important for them to pound so." Mary's sleepy voice startled him,

"Yes, Lady Mary." He put out his candle, flicking the switch. Both blinked at the sudden harsh light. Someone was still rattling the door handle.

"All right!" Carson growled, "In the name of- who do you think you are-" he pulled open the door, blocking Mary's view. He stepped back, quite shocked and she saw now who was pushing in.

"I wouldn't have knocked so hard but the house was dark and we've been walking." Branson said. Thomas dragged Edith's trunk, behind him her sisters wobbled in, looking like drowned pack horses. Tom's jacket was draped over Sybil's shoulders, keeping her somewhat dry.

"Sybil! Edith!"

"I told you not to carry that," Tom said, taking the bags from Sybil's hands. "Your fingers are all white!" he gasped, taking them between his own, he blew on them.

"I'll be fine in a little while." She said sleepily. "I'm only tired. Anyway your coat kept me warm."

"Good." He looked over to Edith. "Are you alright?" She sank down onto the trunk, waving in response. She was out of breath and her feet were nearly numb.

"Good heavens, what happened to your shoes?" Mary gasped. Edith's shoes were soaked through. She'd been wearing her evening slippers when they left Ireland, and hadn't thought to change. "Carson go and fetch warm water, and a bowl or a dishpan or something." Sybil turned to see,

"Mary, take her shoes off, someone should rub her feet, get the circulation going again." In a moment the foyer was abuzz with activity. Wet coats and hats were shed, maids were sent up to start baths and stoke up fires in the bedrooms.

"Where is Mama?" Edith asked sleepily as Mary rubbed her feet, "Ouch!"

"You still have some feeling, that's good." She replied, "And I expect in bed. O'Brian was sent up to fetch them."

~O~

"Your Ladyship," a soft voice disturbed the stillness in the dark room. Cora buried her face into Robert's shoulder, sighing. Automatically, his hand squeezed her waist where it settled some hours ago. A hand came over her shoulder, gently shaking her from the comfort and warmth that was her husband. "Your Ladyship, please wake up." The voice was more urgent this time.

"O'Brian?" she cracked her eyes open. "What is it?"

"Lady Edith has returned," Cora rubbed her eyes,

"What?"

"Lady Edith just arrived; Mr. Branson and Lady Sybil are with her. We thought you would want to know."

"What's happened?" Cora asked. "What are they doing here so soon?"

"What the devil is going on?" Robert grumbled, finally realizing that there was indeed a maid in the room, and it was not yet even close to morning.

"Best ask Mr. Branson, your lordship."

~O~

**Downstairs**

Edith leaned heavily on Thomas' arm. She held her shoes now; waiting for…she wasn't sure what she was still downstairs for. She wished everyone would stop making such a fuss and let her alone.

"What's all this?" Lord Grantham seemed more shocked than angry, though he cast a disapproving look upon Branson, seeing Sybil had been out in the rain and wind in her condition.

"Edith!" Cora gasped, "Sybil, Tom, what on Earth has happened? Why didn't you send a telegram, or telephone us?!" she reached for them both. Thomas kept firm grip on Edith's arm, for each step she took her legs wobbled.

"I'm alright, Mama." She said. "So is Sybil, better than all of us, she'd have you believe." Robert looked at Branson,

"What are you all doing here? What's happened?"

"It's a long story." Tom said, "But if we can put Sybil to bed, and I think Edith as well, I'll tell you everything I can." Robert looked at the ladies, then back at the former chauffer. Mary took Sybil's arm, motioning for Anna to come and help.

"Carson, if it isn't too much trouble, have a sandwich cut for Mr. Branson." Cora said,

"Just a handful of biscuits will do me fine. Don't wake anyone else on my account." Carson nodded, grateful for the thought. All the while, Thomas was watching Edith. She was pale during the journey back, and she hadn't eaten much. Now, as she reached for the stairway, her knees buckled. Cora gasped, and everyone lurched forward.

Edith felt herself give way, and she waited for her knees to strike the foyer carpet. She waited but the jolt did not come. Instead her feet dangled in the air. Through the fog of her mind, she saw Thomas, and realized he was carrying her. A cool hand was touching her forehead,

"Set her down a moment," someone was saying.

Thomas sat on the stairs, Lady Edith in his arms. Lady Grantham felt her daughter's face,

"She is so pale!" she murmured, "Has she been ill?"

"She did not eat very much on the trip, your ladyship." Thomas said quietly. "I could bring her upstairs; I don't think she can walk." Cora looked at Robert, and he nodded.

"Yes, Lady Grantham will accompany you. Thank you Thomas, quick thinking."

"Yes your Lordship." He stood carefully, leaning his weight on the stair railing until he was upright; Lady Grantham supported Edith's head.

"Mama," she murmured,

"It's alright Edith, I'm right here." Her mother's voice was soft as silk, soothing her nerves. She felt her legs swaying, her knees hooked over Thomas arm, her head by his shoulder. She could see her mother, glowing in the dim lamplight.

"Mama," tears wet her cheeks again "Mama I'm so unhappy." Cora stopped then; her heart ached for her daughter. A hand over her breast, Cora felt her throat swell and she wanted to weep too. It was such a blunt statement that she did not know what to do for a moment. Of course they knew that Edith was sometimes unhappy, but she never said. No one did. More than anything, Cora hated to be useless. As children grow, they find ways to solve their own problems, sometimes returning to parents for advice. Yet here was one problem Cora did not know how to solve, nor did anyone else. Edith turned her face to Thomas' shoulder, silently crying.

Cora caught up with them, standing in the doorway; she watched the footman set Edith down. His hands quickly tugged at her hem, covering her legs from view. He reached then, covering her hand, and the other pressed her forehead.

"It'll all be right. You'll see." He said softly. Suddenly he whirled around, realizing Lady Grantham was there. He coughed, bowing his head.

"I won't say anymore, except thank you, for tonight. I expect when I hear whatever it is Mr. Branson has to say, I will be thanking you again." Thomas didn't know how to respond, and for a moment, he only stood blinking. "Goodnight Thomas."

"Goodnight Lady Grantham." He glanced at Edith, as if wanting to say more but decided against it. He bowed out of the room into the hall. Sinking into one of the chairs, he sighed heavily, putting his head in his hands.

"Thomas?" he looked up to see Mrs. Hughes in the hall. "What are you doing up here?" he looked off in the distance, thinking a moment. He sighed tiredly and shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Well then I suggest you go and do it downstairs where you belong, not in the ladies' quarters of the house." her tone was warm even as she chided him. Even if she was truly angry at him, Thomas wasn't sure he would have cared. He was tired, hungry and worried about Edith. But there wasn't anything he could do about it now. So he got to his feet, heading downstairs behind Mrs. Hughes.

**Dining room**

Robert and Tom sat at one of the table, milk and a plate of biscuits sat before them. Between bites, he explained what brought them back to Downton in the middle of the night. Robert was nothing less than shocked and appalled.

"This- this man who knew Edith, you're sure he hasn't followed you?"

"I don't see how he could." Tom said. "He didn't have any money, least not that I knew." He emptied his glass, setting it aside. "I don't think his aunt would give it to him either."

"How did Edith know him?" Robert asked, frowning. "She isn't the type to just run off." Tom shrugged.

"I guess she met him when she went with Mrs. Glavin to the market. He has odd jobs, must've met him around there." he set his napkin aside with a sigh. "I threw him out of the house, and we took what we could. Rent was paid up already. I'm only sorry I couldn't let them know sooner."

"You did the right thing, I am grateful for your quick thinking, getting the ladies out when you did." Robert said. "Who knows what senseless violence those filthy dogs-" Branson looked up, and Robert had to force himself to stop talking. "-excuse me." He murmured.

"It is senseless." His son in-law agreed. "But even a dog has more sense sometimes." Robert quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not saying I'm turning my back on Ireland." Tom said. "I want freedom for my people more than anything, but I don't agree that they way to it is to burn homes and murder politicians. We're as bad as the people who took Ireland from us in the first place then." He glanced over the rim of his glass at Robert. He swallowed quickly. "Begging your pardon." Robert shifted uncomfortably.

"Well…I suppose we both have some things we must work on."

"I haven't thanked you yet, for the tickets either." Tom said. "Sybil and I can pay you back-"

"There isn't any need."

"I know there isn't but-"

"Nor is there any need to repay me for the money we sent either." Robert reached for the bottle of brandy, pouring himself another glass, and then holding it out to Branson. "What do you intend to do with it, if you don't mind my asking." Finishing the milk in his cup, Branson took the brandy, pouring himself a little.

"Sybil wants to find a house of our own, can't say as I'm against it."

"In Ireland?" Branson nodded.

"Where else?"

"It's only that with the way things are now, Edith leaving so suddenly, and that boy there, it may be difficult for you to get back in the country." Branson set his glass down with a start.

"You mean you believe we're stuck here?"

"I only mean that for the time being, you ought to stay put. Were you only bringing Edith and then returning tomorrow?" Robert asked, disbelieving.

"No." Tom shook his head. "We were staying for the wedding, after that, things should be calmed down enough for the two of us to go back."

"Are you so sure of that?"

"No." Branson shook his head. "But I can't go sticking my head in the sand every time a riot breaks out. Edith is here safe now. They oughtn't have anything against Sybil and I."

"You know better than that, Tom, don't be a stubborn fool." Robert said. "Grudges are held no matter how petty. The Chatsworth's lost their home because of their connections, what will people do to you, or to Sybil when they learn your wife is English too?"

"She's made a name for herself there, she works at the newspaper-"

"And they'll say she's feeding the English press with tales of how the Irish are slaughtering peasants." Robert finished. "Tom, for the sake of your wife, for your child, stay here." Tom was quiet then, he set his jaw.

"We'll stay for the wedding." He said finally. Robert made to protest "And a little while after." Tom relented. "No later than fall." Robert nodded, satisfied somewhat. It was more than he expected, but he wouldn't get any more out of him, at least for tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

_Woohoo! Chapter 8 is up and running! Leading into some excitement in chapter 9 as well! Here is some Matthew/Edith brother/sister fluff and Mary/Edith sisterly affection. Coz they just need to be a happy family ok?_

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><p>Aside from wedding preparations, Downton Abbey kept its usual pace. To Edith it was stuffy and tiring. Thomas was back to his duties, so she didn't see him except at dinner when he served, and they couldn't exactly talk then. She did try to go downstairs at one point but Carson intervened, stating her mother was looking for her, which Edith knew it was his kind way of saying ladies don't go into the kitchen.<p>

With resignation, she went back to what she did before she went to Ireland, which wasn't much come to think of it. Edith was bored. She only had so many friends to call on, there were only so many times she could call on the charity houses before they thanked her very much but couldn't entertain ladies all day.

"I don't need a tour of the facilities and afternoon tea, you know," she said finally. "I know the grounds very well. I can work," she offered. They immediately shook their heads, thanking her again and promised they certainly didn't need to trouble a great lady like her for help. Dejected, Edith walked home again. She supposed she could go for a walk later. She wasn't much of a horsewoman, but she did enjoy being around them. Perhaps she might go to the paddock and watch Lynch work the horses.

"That is an unhappy woman if ever I saw one," Matthew said. She looked up from her feet as she shucked her coat, handing it to Carson. "Why so glum Edith?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. I suppose I'm just bored."

"Well how about coming for a drive with me? I'm going to pick out a present for Mary for the party next week." He smiled, "I could use a lady's opinion, and Branson isn't letting Sybil go anywhere until the baby comes. That leaves you or cousin Violet."

"Go on dear; you could use the fresh air," Cora said, coming into the foyer, Mary at her side. Edith looked helplessly to Mary.

"I wish you would, he might choose something bizarre."

"Me? Never! Matthew laughed.

"One never knows what goes on in a man's head," Mary said. "Edith, you know what I like, _do_ go with him." Before she could make any protest that she wasn't feeling up to it, Cora and Mary went off to the parlor, speaking about wedding arrangements. Matthew held open her coat, smiling all the while.

"Come along, I promise I won't bite." She did offer a smile then, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"So come on what is it?" Matthew asked as they sped off to the village.

"This is the long way," Edith said, noticing him take a left instead of a right.

"I know. Don't ignore the question." She fiddled with the buttons on her gloves, looking at her lap. Keeping a hand on the wheel, he took her fingers, squeezing gently. "Come on Edith, you can tell me, I promise it won't go beyond us." She looked up at him, surprised to find he was looking back. "Is it that you miss Ireland?"

"I guess…oh I don't know, I'm so miserable and I don't know why," she cried. He took his hand back as they approached a curve in the road.

"Did you meet someone there?" she looked up sharply.

"Why do you ask?" he shrugged

"You look like I felt when I was away from Mary during the war. I was miserable," he said with a chuckle, but he quickly sobered. "So did you? Meet anyone I mean."

"I barely knew him," Edith said finally. "I really only met him twice and the second time there was a misunderstanding, I'm afraid he made me quite angry, I didn't give him a chance to explain himself." Matthew was quiet for a moment.

"Is he the chap who warned you all to leave Ireland?" she only looked at him, "Edith!" he glanced at her then back at the road. "Edith is he?"

"Well…yes," she confessed. "His name is Killian. I knew when I met him nothing would ever come of it, Papa wouldn't have it."

"He let Sybil and Tom get married."

"Yes but Tom wasn't involved in a war, burning down the houses of Englishmen."

"I didn't hear about that," Matthew said. His mouth was set in a grim line now. "Edith, you know you deserve someone better." She gave a scoff, her arms folded across her middle. "I mean it." He cast a look over to her. "You're too hard on yourself sometimes. You have a match out there for you. Of all the good gentlemen in London, there is one for you," he said.

"Yes, if only one of them thought the same," Edith grumbled, slouching in her seat. She pulled herself upright after a moment. "I'm sorry Matthew. I don't like to pout, and especially so close to your wedding. I'm just…" she searched for words. "I'm upset and disappointed…I'm angry with myself and…life," she stared ahead down the road. "My life makes me unhappy." He looked sorry then,

"Edith…why ever didn't you say before?"

"I didn't want to take the attention away from Mary. It's your wedding day soon; she ought to enjoy it without her little sister getting in the way."

"You belong to this family Edith; your troubles concern all of us. We've been quite worried for you. You're not your usual self."

"I haven't felt like my usual self in a long time," she murmured.

"What do you want do to most?" he asked. "Charity?"

"It's what I'm allowed to do," Edith said with a smirk, "And even then they tell me when they think I've done enough."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he scoffed. "Well, what do you really want to do?"

"I don't know," she said, quite honestly.

"The village is almost a proper town now," Matthew said. "There must be something." They were nearing the outskirts now, new buildings were going up. He turned down onto the cobblestone street, the car rattling. She looked up at the buildings, a good many newer than most.

"I wouldn't mind working in a shop," she said at last. "I'm not a cook, or a mechanic, but I have a head for figures, I think I could make a decent clerk."

"You've always liked books," Matthew added. "What about the library?" They passed the modest building. A good many books had been donated from Downton Abbey, trunks and trunks, most from the attics, all editions they never read or copies they didn't need. Edith had been the one to sort and catalogue them before sending them off to the village.

"Well I-" the prospect of having a job did startle her. It meant change, and while she did yearn for it, the sudden thought that she could change her circumstances right away frightened her a little more than she liked.

"Why don't we swing by on our way back?" Matthew asked, seeing her hesitate. "Give you time to think it over." She nodded,

"Yes, thank you. I'd like that." He turned down a smaller street toward the train station. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"To London." He said. "I was going to get Mary's present there." He went around the car, opening her door and helping her out. "One gets jewelry for occasions like this, I'm told." Edith nodded.

"Nothing else would do, really," she said. "You're just leaving the car here?"

"No, Branson walked to the village today for a few things, I asked him to drive it back for me." As if on cue, around the corner came Tom, a package under his arm.

"Am I early?" he asked.

"Just on time. Train leaves in twenty minutes."

"What are you doing in town?" Edith asked.

"Mailing a letter to our landlord in Ireland, I figured an apology wouldn't hurt. Don't worry, I didn't use a return address." He said. "I fetched something for Sybil too; she said she was bored yesterday."

"So what did you get her?" Matthew asked. Tom looked sheepish.

"Knitting." Edith burst out laughing, covering her mouth quickly.

"Oh- oh dear."

"My mother knit," Tom said.

"Yes, but…won't Sybil be angry?"

"For what?"

"Never mind," Edith quickly shook her head.

"She said she'd wanted something to do. She hates embroidery."

"Knitting is…"

"Useful." Tom supplied, and then paused. "I knit." Matthew raised his eyebrows, chewing his lips. Tom shifted his eyes, "Somewhat anyway." He set the package in the car. "Anyway it won't hurt her to try it."

"No indeed. That was a kind thought, Tom. I'm sure she'll be grateful." Edith soothed.

"We'd better be off then." Matthew said. "We've still got to pick out Mary's present."

"Now her, I wouldn't get knitting," Tom said and they all laughed.

~O~

**On the train**

Once the train pulled out of the station, Edith pulled out a carton of cigarettes. She glanced sheepishly at Matthew. He only cleared his throat, taking a pack of matches from his pocket. Striking one he leaned over, lighting her's for her.

"I won't tattle," he said, putting out the match.

"Thank you," She blew out a puff of smoke.

"Everyone must have their secrets," he shrugged. "Though Mary might complain of the smoke on my jacket." She offered him a cigarette and he took one, thanking her.

"I didn't know you smoked anything but cigars with Papa."

"I smoked cigarettes during the war. I don't keep them on me, but if I'm offered one I won't refuse," he said with a shrug.

"What are you thinking of getting Mary?" he sighed,

"I don't know really. A necklace I suppose."

"Yes but what sort?" again he shrugged. Edith gave an exasperated sigh. "It _is_ a good thing I came along."

~O~

**Downton Abbey**

"But I don't understand, _what_ is the trouble with Edith?" the Dowager Countess asked. She walked along the path with Robert.

"She is unhappy Mama. That is all we know," he said. "If she decides to tell us, which I hope she does, that is her affair."

"Her affair? Nonsense," Violet huffed.

"Matthew's taken her to London to help choose a present for Mary; I expect he'll be able to talk to her." Hearing a car in the driveway, they both turned. Branson was at the wheel this time.

"Is Tom chauffeuring again?" Robert chuckled at this.

"No. I expect he's bringing the car back for Matthew."

"And who is fetching him from the station?" Violet asked. Robert gave her a look, and then cleared his throat.

"Edwards, I expect."

"I don't like Edwards," Violet said after a moment. "He is unsteady at the wheel."

"He drives well enough," Robert said, guiding her into the house. Hopefully tea was set out and would distract her from any more comments. It was a slim hope.

Sybil met Tom around by the garage, hands folded over her belly. She waited for him to park the car. He hopped out easily, beaming at her.

"How do you like the car?" she asked. He looked up from lifting a parcel from the passenger seat.

"It's a wonderful machine," he said, running a hand over the side. "Rides smooth, she's elegant," he nodded.

"What's that?" Sybil nodded to the package in his hands. Looking at the brown paper in his hands, he smiled, embarrassed.

"Well…I bought it, thinking maybe you'd like to learn something new…to keep you occupied," he said sheepishly. "If you don't like it, I'll take it back,"

"May I open it?" he nodded, handing it to her. Sliding her finger under the tape, Sybil pulled at the dark brown wrappings. They fell open to reveal yarn and knitting needles.

"Edith thought…well I guess she figured you might be offended, and maybe she's right," he said "but you said you wanted to learn something and I was learning how to anyway and I figured we could learn together." He finally looked up at her to see a smile twitching on her lips.

"You knit?" she queried and he shrugged.

"A bit."

"Thank you," she said with a laugh, and kissed him.

"You're not upset?" he asked, a little surprised.

"No," she said. "If you'd bought it for me expecting me to knit baby things, then I suppose I'd be upset."

"What are you doing out here anyway?" he asked

"I was talking with Thomas," she replied. "He wanted to speak with you in private."

"Me? What for?"

"I think it's about Killian," Sybil said quietly.

"Marvelous," Tom sighed heavily. "I'll see you up, and then I'll go talk to him."

"You don't have to," she reminded. "I won't break."

"I want to," was all he said.

~O~

**London**

Edith's hand tucked into Matthew's arm, the other clutching her handbag, they jogged across the busy street. Heels clicked on the sidewalk in all directions. Everywhere one looked there were people. Car horns tooted, and buses creaked and clickety-clacked down the cobblestones. Edith did appreciate city life, not so much as Mary, but it was an amusing place. Edith liked quiet, country life. Matthew smiled at her after a moment.  
>"I thought I'd try Cartier first, see if anything doesn't sparkle," he said and she nodded.<p>

"We're sure to find something."

"I thought a string of amber beads-"

"For your Mama perhaps," Edith laughed. "No, you're engaged, you ought to give her something smart. Elegant."

"And frightfully expensive," Matthew added. They arrived at the double doors of the famous jewelers. The doorman stood at attendance, nodding his head to them as he held the door open.

Approaching the counter, Matthew began scanning the display cases,

"That?"

"What?" she turned from admiring a clock "Oh! No, Mary would never wear that," she came to stand beside him as a man came through a door behind the counter.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I've made an appointment to look for an engagement present for my fiancée," Matthew said. "I'm Matthew Crawley."

"We've been expecting you Mr. Crawley."

"This is my cousin, Lady Edith, she's here to help," Matthew added, seeing the man's gaze flick to her.

"Very good, if you'll follow me, we have some items I think you'd like to see," Matthew raised his eyebrows nervously to Edith before letting her go first.

"What's in style, these days for engagement presents from the groom-to-be?" Edith asked

"There are a number of things Mr. Crawley could choose, rings, I assume have already been selected-" Matthew nodded. "Then I might suggest a bandeau, or a hair comb?" Edith was nodding, apparently knowing what a 'bandeau' was.

"I thought a brooch," Matthew said, Edith and the clerk both looked at him. "Or a bracelet?" he added hastily.

"We have a selection of bracelets as well," the man nodded.

"Nothing too modern," Edith said. "My sister is very choosy, she doesn't like these hard, modern styles."

"A more classic line then?" the man was saying. Matthew found himself pushed behind them, peering over their shoulders at the cases.

~O~

**Downton Abbey**

"I had a letter from Ireland." Thomas and Branson stood behind the garage, away from prying eyes and ears. Flicking ash from the end of his cigarette, he set it in the corner of his mouth as he fished the creased paper from his vest pocket. He handed it over to Branson.

"Mrs. Glavin?"

"I thought you ought to know," Thomas said. "Didn't know what to make of it at first."

"Killian's not in Ireland anymore!" Thomas shook his head.

"She said she didn't know where he was, but he was on the run is all," he said. "I guess she got to the bonfire too late, so she came to your house. Found it all shut up and drew her own conclusions."

"Remind me to write her a letter of apology," Branson said. "I can send her the wages I owe her at least."

"You think he'll try and make for Downton?" Thomas asked

"If he's smart he won't."

"Are you going to tell his Lordship?" Branson folded up the letter, handing it back to him.

"Not yet."

"So you don't think he's headed here," Thomas said, pocketing the letter.

"I don't see why he would," Branson replied. "He only met Lady Edith twice; he can't have any strong attachment to her."

"Should we tell her?" Thomas asked then. At this Branson gave pause,

"If we did, what would we tell her? Killian is on the loose, running from the Irish police? No," he shook his head. "No I think we'd better keep this to ourselves."

"But-" Thomas wanted to say that he and Edith never kept secrets, except for one. So he shut his mouth, nodding slowly. Branson put a hand on the footman's shoulder, comforting.

"I know you and Lady Edith are good friends," he said understandingly. "But it wouldn't do for her to worry and fret anymore than she already is." Thomas nodded.

"I won't say. Least not unless I think I should."

"I wouldn't ask any more from you," Branson nodded approvingly. "Come on, let's go down to the village for a pint."

"I've got work to do," Thomas said.

"I'll clear it, besides you look like Hell." He went off towards the house to find Carson. Thomas stood, conflicted now. He didn't like keeping things from Edith, and he wasn't sure how he felt about having a pint with Lady Sybil's husband. But there it was. Shrugging his thin shoulders, he sighed heavily before following after Branson.

"_If you can't beat 'em, join 'em_,_"_ he supposed.

~O~

**London, Train Station**

"I hope you didn't think I was monopolizing the decision," Edith said as they waited in their compartment.

"Not at all," Matthew replied. "I'm grateful for your input. I might've gotten something horrid," he smiled a teasing smile. "Like a brooch." Edith laughed then, "But you do think Mary will like what I've picked?"

"Oh yes," she nodded. "And the important thing is that you picked it, you can be quite sure of that."

"So long as she likes it," he sighed, settling into the cushions.

"Fretting over the price?" Edith asked.

"Oh no!" Matthew shook his head. "Not at all, I suppose I'm just not used to shopping."

"Nonsense," Edith said, "If we were in the market for a new car, you'd be the first to go and look at as many roadsters you could."

"Hm," he smiled at this then. He looked out the window to see the clock on the wall, and then checked his own pocket watch. "Well if we get going soon, we'll be home in time for dinner," he said.

"Shall I go and see what's keeping the train?" she asked, standing. "I saw the wagon-lit pass by," he stood as she opened the door, "I'll just be a minute," she said and shut the door partway.

In the narrow corridor at the end, the wagon-lit conductor stood by the stairway.

"Excuse me," she called, the man saw and went to her. "What's keeping the train?"

"I don't know, someone said there was trouble down the line,"

"Trouble, what sort of trouble?"

"I don't know, nothing mechanical. Shall I go and see?"

"Yes please," she nodded, so he swung down to the platform and jogged off. He returned in a few moments, smiling to himself.

"Nothing to worry about, a delivery of beef broke loose from the holding car, it wandered onto the tracks. We'll be moving on in just a few moments."

"Thank you," Edith said with a nod and went back to her car. Matthew looked up from the paper.

"Well?"

"Just a little mix up," she said. The train whistle sounded, and they both lurched as they pulled forward. She turned to look out the window. Matthew opened the newspaper when suddenly he heard her gasp. Lowering it, he found Edith opening the window, holding onto her hat as she poked her head out to have a better look.

"Edith?" Slowly, she sat back, pulling the window back up.

"Nothing…I thought I saw someone I knew," she said weakly. Then shook off her frown, smiling instead. "Silly though. Of course it wasn't them. It couldn't be." He lifted the paper again, and Edith looked back out the window, staring at the crowds. It was only a coincidence. There must be hundreds of red-heads in London. No. It couldn't possibly be him.

~O~

**Several Hours Later…**

"That wasn't too bad, we made good time," Matthew helped her down from the train.

"I hope Edwards is waiting for us," she said. "I must wash the train off, I'll barely have time to dress for dinner."

"I'm eager to get home myself."

"It's good to hear you call Downton 'home'," she commented. He took her elbow, going ahead of her through the crowded station.

"I suppose it is my home now, isn't it? It seems like such a short time ago that- Edith?" she was looking in the opposite direction, almost pulling him backwards. "Edith what is it?" startled, she turned, flushing red.

"Nothing I guess I- I must be tired from shopping," she said, and tried to laugh. "I keep thinking I see someone I know,"

"Business hour at the station," he smiled. "I know the feeling," he tugged her along now towards the exit. "It seems like everyone has the same coat or hat,"

"Yes," she murmured. The trouble was she knew she would recognize that hat if she could only get a good look at it. But the person, whoever they were, was gone now. So Edith let Matthew help her up into the car.

"What about the library?" he asked,

"Oh yes," she said.

"Are you too tired? We can always go tomorrow if you like," he offered.

"We'll be late for dinner if we stop now," she said. "I'll go tomorrow."

They pulled up to Downton just as the sun was setting. The hedges cast long shadows across the lawn; the sky was eerie red streaked purple. Studying the sky for a moment, she paused, reminding herself again that she hadn't seen any familiar hat or particular redhead. It had been a coincidence. Realizing Matthew was waiting for her at the door, she hurried in, unbuttoning her coat.

"How was London, Lady Edith?" Thomas asked as he helped her with her things.

"Very nice, Thomas, though I am glad to be home. It is so much cooler here."

"Shall I send Anna up?"

"Yes, please,"

"Oh, Edith, wait a moment," Matthew called after her. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a rectangular velvet box. "A little 'thank-you' present for today." He said.

"You didn't!" she said, quite shocked. "Whenever did you get it?"

"The clerk was ringing up Mary's gift and I saw this and thought it looked like you," he shrugged. "I wish I'd put more thought into it is all," he said. She pressed his cheek quickly, "Don't thank me until you look at it," he laughed. So she tugged the white ribbon off the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a wrist-watch, quite modern looking. She lifted it out of the satin lining, holding up to the light. Emeralds and diamonds sparkled on the band and around the narrow watch-face.

"Oh!" she gasped delightedly. Never in her life had she owned such a rich piece of jewelry, and for a moment she was at a loss for words."Thank you," she said at last. "_Thank you_ Matthew, it's beautiful."

"I thought I heard voices," Mary was on the stairs, and Edith smiled up at her sister. "Were you successful?"

"He was," Edith said, "And look what he's surprised me with as well!" she had set the watch back safely in the box. She held it out to Mary to see.

Mary touched the edge of the box,

"It's you, Edith," Mary said with a soft smile, "That will look marvelous with your emerald silk,"

"Yes I thought so too-" they both began up the steps until Matthew cleared his throat.

"Don't you want your present?" he asked. Mary paused, caught.

"I'm supposed to have it at the party," she said. "That's how it's done."

"That's silly," Matthew scoffed, and cleared the remaining space between them. "I have it here now, I want you to wear it tonight." Matthew held the box out to her.

"Well, it isn't as if I've never broken tradition before," she said, quirking her eyebrow. Opening the velvet box, her eyes lit up, delighted. "Oh, Matthew!" eyes shining she reached a trembling hand out. It was a hair clip draped like tear drops, diamonds winking in the lamplight in braided loops.

"You'll have to have Anna help you," he said, "I haven't the faintest idea how to put it on," he looked up at her, "But you will wear it tonight?"

"Yes, and the night of the party too." She said, beaming. Mary stood on tiptoe, kissing him then. Edith turned away to her room, leaving them their privacy. Mary came scurrying up after her, clutching the jewelry box. "I'll have Anna fix my hair in your room, I want to see what looks best with your new watch." She said, before swishing off to find the maid.

Edith stopped there in the hall, hand on the doorknob. Mary wanted to finish getting ready in _her_ room. She wanted to help _her_ get dressed. Blinking back tears, she pushed open her door to lay out her things, clutching her gift to her bosom.


	9. Chapter 9

_Just a short chapter, my lovelies, thank you for your patience! - darthsydious_

* * *

><p>Dinner was merry and full of cheerful talk. Even Branson, heartsick that he and Sybil could not go home, was smiling and joking with the rest of them. Afterwards, instead of hanging about the dining table smoking, the men all joined the ladies in the drawing room.<p>

"It is good to be together again," Cora said with a pleasant sigh. "Although I am sorry for your circumstances, Tom."

"Thank you Lady Grantham," he said. Seeing Thomas enter with a tray of coffees, Edith stood, going to the table where he set it.

"Meet for a smoke after coffee?" she asked softly, he nodded with a smile.

"Thought for a while you were avoiding me," he muttered under his breath, sorting cups and saucers to set out.

"Never," she whispered, beaming. He handed her a cup, cream and sugar already added.

"Thank you," he smiled for just a moment before he became solemn again. Turning to the rest of the room he went about his duties, pouring coffee and fluffing the Dowager Countess' pillows.

~O~

**Stable Yard – Late**

Edith and Thomas stood in the dark courtyard, the tips of cigarettes glowing as they spoke quietly.

"It is good to finally talk to you," she said. He looked at his feet, flicking ash off his trousers.

"I did figure Mr. Carson had a say in your not coming to see me," he said with a shrug.

"You haven't told me yet, what do you think of me working at the library?" he took a drag from his cigarette, releasing the smoke after a moment into the warm summer air.

"Think you'd do alright there. You've got a head for numbers, besides it'll get you out of the house, keep you distracted from that-" he paused. "Well you know." Edith was quiet, tapping her fingers along the worn table they leaned against. She wondered if she should tell him what she thought she saw. By the light of the moon he could see her expression, "What?" he asked.

"Nothing, well," she laughed a little. "That isn't entirely true."

"Come on then, out with it." Edith took a breath, as if she were about to say something, and then shook her head, laughing to herself.

"No, it's too ridiculous,"

"Come on, or shall I worm it out of you?" he teased. Seeing she wasn't laughing, he sobered. "You _are_ upset," he said. "What is it?"

"I am upset," she agreed. "Upset because I don't like to think that-" here she stopped again. Thomas actually took her arm, squeezing gently. This seemed to comfort her and she took a deep breath. "Thomas…have you ever thought you've seen someone you knew, but knew it couldn't possibly be them?" He blinked, drawing back a moment.

"Sometimes…" he nodded. "I think I see men I knew from the army, men I know died. Can't be them though. Just men who look like them." He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you ask? Who've you seen?"

"I never said I saw anyone, exactly," Edith said.

"Edith," his tone was warning. She heaved a great sigh.

"I thought I saw Killian today, in London, it was only for a moment, but I know that cap, and there is no mistaking that hair," she shook her head. "But there must be hundreds of those caps, and many more with red hair," she attempted to shake off the eerie feeling that she was being watched. "But when I saw it again in the trainstation here, I thought-" she held herself, chewing on her bottom lip. "Am I mad, Thomas? Am I only wanting to see him?"

"It isn't strange to want to see anybody," he replied gently. "Did you see the man's face?" Edith thought hard. Eyes. She'd seen his eyes, the bridge of his nose. They could have been anyone's eyes. Loads of people had similar eyes, don't they?

"Just for a moment, I guess…I can't be sure," she said, upset.

"Let's say for the sake of argument that it is him," Thomas said, sitting beside her now. "What do we do? Why would he come all the way to England?"

"To flee the police I suppose," she said.

"And?" he prompted,

"Thomas, you can't _possibly_ mean he'd follow me all the way to Downton, it's ridiculous!"

"Why?" he asked. "He did risk his neck to warn you in Ireland,"

"Yes but why follow me?" Edith asked. "If he did all he wanted, if he knew, as I suspect he knew, that I was angry with him, then why risk his life to come to England?" Thomas was quiet for a while, he flicked his cigarette to the ground, toeing it out.

"Maybe he loves you." Edith scoffed, blowing out a puff of smoke.  
>"Me?!"<p>

"Yes, you."

"Don't be ridiculous. Love me? Humph. An English noblewoman, no less,"

"Why are you so hard on yourself?"

"Have I been given a reason to think otherwise?" she retorted. "When has love ever been in my favor?" Thomas knew too well what she felt.

Hopelessness.

The feeling of being shut out when everyone around you was paired off and you're left to stand in the corner, watching the world move on without you.

"I know how you feel," he said quietly. "Too well you might say." Edith wiped her eyes, nodding. After a moment Thomas dug through his pocket for his kerchief.

"It's clean, I promise," he said, handing it to her and she laughed as she took it, wiping her eyes. She took his hand after, lacing her fingers in his.

"Dear Thomas, I am fortunate there is someone who understands. Thank God for you," she smiled at his touched expression. "I could never tell my family such things, I think they would be _sorry_, but they wouldn't understand."

The door across the courtyard opened, light spilling out from the kitchen. Both turned to see Mr. Bates standing there.

"Thomas, there you are," he paused. "Lady Edith?"

"It's alright, Mr. Bates. Thomas was just taking a break and keeping me company." Standing, she brushed her skirt off. "I should be upstairs anyway. The others will wonder. Thank you." One final squeeze of his hand, she departed inside, bidding a rather confused Mr. Bates goodnight.

Thomas stood, taking his time folding up his handkerchief. Bates watched for a moment.

"Is she alright?" Thomas shrugged.

"Will be, some day."

"And you?"

"What do you care?"

"I care if someone is upset." Bates said. "Even you." Hands in his pockets, he came to stand beside the footman.

"We're just friends, you know," Thomas said. He didn't need to explain himself to anyone, but Bates was still Lord Grantham's valet, and if it got back to his Lordship that Thomas and Edith were alone in the courtyard, lord knows what he'd do.

"I know."

"You do?" Thomas paused. "Who else knows?"

"Nobody really, Anna I think, and Mrs. Hughes. Nobody thinks much of it, or they'd tell him. Think you're good for Lady Edith," Bates said with a shrug. "Everyone needs a friend."

"You won't tell Mr. Carson?" Thomas asked.

"Not unless I see a need."

"Thank you."

~O~

**Upstairs**

"Thank you Anna," Edith nodded to the maid before turning back to her vanity, seeing that everything was in order on the table top, she stood, turning the lamp off.

"Good night Lady Edith,"

"Good night Anna." She pulled open the door, then jumped back with a start.

"Oh, your Lordship, excuse me."

"I only came for a moment," Lord Grantham said, is she still up?"

"Yes I am, Papa," Edith set her book down on her bedside table. "What is it?"

"Thank you Anna, that will be all." She bobbed a curtsy and then shut the door behind her.

"Your mother said you were upset," Robert said, hands in his pockets.

"Well I suppose I was, am-" she corrected.

"I understand there was someone in Ireland-" Edith stared, quite shocked

"Branson told me only what he knew, and I took from it that you did care for this…boy," he said.

"I hardly know," Edith said with a shrug, feeling terribly exposed. She would have at least liked the dignity of telling her father herself rather than have him hear it from someone else. "But it doesn't matter now. He's a foolish boy, and in a great deal of trouble, not worth any trouble. If he was the last resort, then I suppose I am giving up now on being married."

"He isn't worthy of you, you know." Robert said quietly. Edith sighed heavily,

"Yes I know, he's Irish, and he has no title-"

"Branson has neither of those things," her father interrupted. "But I admire his common sense far more than this boy's 'loyalty' to his country." He opened his arms to her then. Soothing her back, he felt her sigh heavily against him, sniffling. "I did not mean he was unworthy of you because he was poor," he said finally. "He is not worthy of _you_, Edith. Anyone who is so reckless isn't worth your time."

"Thank you," she murmured, wiping her eyes.

"Well, I'll say goodnight," he kissed her forehead, touching her cheek quickly. "By the way," he said, pausing at the door. "Matthew told me that you had wanted to go work in the library in town." Edith nodded, "Grandmamma is not enthused, but I think it is just the thing for you. If you like I will telephone tomorrow, you'll at least have an interview." Edith beamed.

"Thank you!" she gasped, hurrying to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Kissing his cheek, she pressed her forehead against his. "_Thank_ _you_," she said, and meant it.

"Good night, Edith," was all he said.

"Good night."

The door shut behind him, and Edith leaned against the paneled door, smiling to herself. That was indeed something to look forward to. Perhaps she would make a good impression tomorrow with the Library. She could very well see herself, blissfully organizing the card catalogue, stocking shelves and organizing books. With a pleasant sigh, she removed her dressing robe and tossed it over the end of the bed. Covers already pulled back, she crawled between them, wondering if she ought to lay out her clothes for the next day. She ought to wear something very smart, business-forward, but feminine. Now excited, she climbed back out of bed, hurrying to her wardrobe on light feet. Pulling open the doors, she began rifling through her dresses.

_Tap-tap-tap_

Edith lifted her head, poking her head out from behind the opened door, she looked around the room. The clock on the mantle ticked quietly, there were no trees by her window, or else she might have suspected it was merely a branch, swaying in the summer breeze. After another moment of silence, she shrugged, returning to her former quest.

_Tap-tap-tap_

Now she was sure she heard something. Frowning, she moved out from before the wardrobe to the window. A sudden spray of gravel hit her window, sending her stumbling back with a shriek. She tripped over her vanity chair, her head banged against her wardrobe door, slamming it shut behind her.

"Edith?!" that was Matthew. He was often last to bed. Of course he'd heard all that noise!

"I'm alright," she called, "I only tripped is all." There was a pause.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Edith stood, rubbing the back of her head, and the spot just above her bottom where she landed. Both would be sore tomorrow. "Yes I'm alright, thank you."

"Very well, do be careful next time."

"Yes," she gave a laugh. But the door stayed shut, and once she was certain Matthew had gone on to bed, she returned to the window. Scanning the moonlit grounds, peering at shadows, Edith squinted. _Someone_ had been throwing pebbles at her window. After a few moments, she could still see nothing. Whoever it was must have been able to see her standing there, and must not have wanted her to see them. Or they'd heard Matthew banging on her door. Looking up at the latch, she saw it was unlocked, so, looking out at the grounds, she reached up, locking it. Perhaps it was just one of the hall boys, playing tricks. Perhaps it wasn't. Edith shut the drapes, determined not to look out until the sun was up. She crawled back into bed, her mood somewhat ruined. As she drifted off to sleep, she comforted herself with the thought of the next day's events. Tomorrow would be better, job or not. It was a chance and a start and that was better than nothing.

Outside on the grounds a figure stood in the shadow of the great pine tree. A pocketful of gravel, he turned away, one last wistful look at the window to the bedroom where Lady Edith slept. It was foolish to try tonight. It was too soon. Perhaps in a week. Meantime he'd need a place to stay.


End file.
